Push Me Out to Sea
by Carabayby
Summary: AU. The Fire Nation prepares to welcome home the banished prince, while a bitter and heartbroken foreigner helps the seamstress sew clothes for the royal family. Zutara.
1. Chapter 2

**AN: First off, thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! They encouraged me to keep on writing. I've gotten some less than nice ones on another fic, and I kinda abandoned it. I'm sensitive. Give me not mean reviews and I'll keep writing haha. Thanks also for the follows and favorites. I'm really excited you guys are interested.**

 **Last thing is I'm heading back to school soon, and then I graduate college and become a real adult, so we'll see how long it takes for chapters to come out, because I'm not sure how long this is going to be.**

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Iza spent her time trying to watch the benders inconspicuously. She walked through the garden, pretending to admire the flowers, but it was quite clear that she was uninterested in them. Every few steps, she would stop and look up at the men and women training, then remember to keep walking and look at the flowers. She repeated this process for about a quarter of an hour before sitting down and watching them unabashedly. For a woman decades older than she, Kanna found Iza's lack of subtlety alarming.

Kanna sat at the edge of a pond, her shoes off and her feet in the clear, cool water. The sun was too warm, even though it was autumn and clouds covered it most of the time. When she looked to Iza, sitting down some yards away, she saw that the woman was rubbing her arms. This weather was nothing good. It was probably good for all the fruit the Fire Nation grew, but not for a girl from the Southern Water Tribe.

She drew circles in the water with her toes. If she wasn't a prisoner, she was probably allowed to bend, but she didn't want to take the risk and be wrong. Just being in contact with the element again set her at ease. She could practice bending with small amounts of water when she went back in the palace with Iza.

Unable to face the firebenders any longer, she stood up and walked away from them, her feet wet and bare. Flowers weren't something they had much at home. They looked quite useless to her: not much too eat, but you could probably make a lot better tasting teas with them. She touched the petals of a white flower gently, soft as animal skins. Then she realized the usefulness of flowers: they had beauty. Not the beauty of fresh snow or a hot bowl of soup, not the beauty of comfort. They had the beauty of luxury, the unattainable: perfect in every way, unspoiled and without fault. That is what flowers were for.

She turned herself to the south with a heavy heart. Maybe she could get home somehow, though what would be waiting there? There had been no warriors to protect them. Would they be merciful enough to kill those that were too injured from the raid?

There were only a few things she'd ever wanted. A master to train her, a new pair of boots for formal ceremonies, some more time free of housework and cooking. Now she would give anything for it back. Her father and brother home from the war, her mother unharmed, and herself at home. It was possible that the two were still alive, but now that it was so unlikely for her to ever know, it didn't bring her much comfort. She couldn't hug them, tell them how much she loved and missed them. Really, if they were alive and could make it back home, they'd assume she was dead.

A thin tear rolled over her cheek. She lifted a hand and bent it back in, unblinking.

"Kanna!"

She looked up. Iza was waving to her.

"Come on, let's go in."

With a sigh, she stood and walked back to the pond to get her shoes. She stared into the water, unsure of who she was anymore. Does it matter? She slipped her shoes on and headed to Iza. When she met her, the older woman grabbed her by the arm and lead her at a leisurely pace, gossiping and fawning over the benders. This one has only been training for six years and he's already doing better than some benders that started as children. The princess was flawless, of course, has two mentors, you know. And oh, the prince. He's just come back only a few weeks ago, but he's improved so much over the past few years. It's that former general, his uncle, it is.

Kanna listened without interest. If she were to allow herself to feel anything, only rage would show itself. The less she heard about the prince and princess, the better she would feel.

They passed some of the benders, ones that sat down to take a rest, and Iza would commend them on their training. Some smiled and waved, though others looked too tired and out of breath to even look at her.

A pair ahead of them had stopped walking and appeared to be having an argument. One was about to start yelling, but the shorter one let out a laugh.

"Oh dear," said Iza, turning sharply to the left.

"What is it?" she asked, craning her neck over her shoulder.

She made a fretful sound. "No, don't look, pretend you don't see them."

"What? Why?"

Her face was twisted up, weighing her answer. "It's best to stay out of their affairs. It's the prince and the princess."

This just increased her curiosity. She didn't care to know the "good" about them, but getting some information on the bad in their life might make her feel the teeniest bit better. She followed Iza out of sight but stood watching them. The prince's back was to her. All she could tell was he had black hair like all the others in the Fire Nation. His younger sister wore a sneer and her laugh was light-hearted. She looked proud, comfortable, unafraid. Their words were nothing to Kanna with the space between them, but she could see the dynamic. The princess was the antagonizer, the prince the prey. He stood in a fighting stance, though he held his hands at his sides. They seemed like children, young children. Where was their mother to put them in time out?

She tried to imagine them when they were younger. Would the princess still have picked on him, or had she learned his ways and turned the tables on him? Really, it looked like the prince just took it all, held his emotions in. He probably takes everything out on servants and his bending, she thought. Grown, but immature, the both of them.

"Let's go," suggested Iza.

She followed without complaint.

They made their way back into Iza's workroom. Only a few spoke to Iza, fretting about the royals' clothing and asking how she could be taking a break. She only laughed and waved her hand at the thought. "Everything will be fine," she said. They only threw Kanna strange, distrusting stares, which she pointedly ignored, pretending to be interested in the large tapestries that bore the symbol of the Fire Nation. She suddenly wished she could firebend, that way she could destroy the tapestries with the very element the depicted.

The two sat at the table together. There was tea, a flavor she was unfamiliar with, but not averse to. They had only been outside for about an hour, with Kanna's feet in the pond for most of it. She wondered what they would do with the rest of their time until she had to go. _Wait, where will I go?_

Everything was so strange about the situation, that she hadn't even thought of where she would sleep that night. "So, since I'm not a prisoner, where will I live?"

She beamed. "With me, of course. I'm just on the other side of this place. My work and home are connected." She stood up and led Kanna to the back of the work room and through a door. On the other side were small living quarters. They stood in the living room, and there was a door on either side of it. "Mine's on the left, so you'll have the right. Let me get you some blankets." She went off to her side before Kanna could say she probably wouldn't need them.

She went to the low table in front of her and sat on a cushion. It was better than she'd hoped for. She wouldn't be back in the prison, she had a place to sleep, and Iza was kind to her.

That, and she'd have her own room, something she'd never experienced. Back home, their houses were one room. Her mother and father slept together on one side, while she and her brother slept on the other, huddling together under the furs for warmth. Even when a fire burned, it was hard to get the cold out. Being awake and moving was the best way to stay warm, though if she didn't sleep, her mother and father would worry, and then her brother would complain because he wanted to sleep after training.

What was worse than the cold of the snow was its reflection. When the moon was full, the pale light would strengthen and glare into their home. They all pulled the furs over their heads on those nights.

But half the time, Kanna would go out and bend. Nothing felt better, and she'd never felt stronger. The water gave itself over to her, more than willing to follow her every move. One time, her brother went out to bring her back in the middle of a snow storm. As soon as she saw him, she made the snow stop. It waited inches above their heads, while he stared at her in disbelief and awe, then swatted at it to be sure he wasn't still dreaming. A few flakes fell into his hair. "Okay, keep doing that until we get home, yeah?"

Iza came out with an armload of blankets and headed into Kanna's room. "It's getting colder, and the rooms are cold on their own, so I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

She stood and followed the woman into the room, where she was layering the blankets on the floor by the wall closest to the living room. As Iza continued to chatter, Kanna walked to the window on the far side and parted the curtain, looked out at the long expanse of a brick walkway, leading to the palace gates.

"If I'm not a prisoner, can I leave?" The words came quietly, a question to herself rather than to Iza, though she answered anyway.

"That isn't really how it works here. The Fire Nation likes to assimilate former prisoners into our country and way of life."

She turned to her. Probably so we'll feel some strange traitor's sense of patriotism, she thought. "But why am I no longer a prisoner? I can bend; I'm the last waterbender of my tribe. Why would the Fire Lord let me just work for you instead of killing me? I asked Jee Sang, but one of the guards answered. 'I'll work to earn my keep,'" she repeated. "It doesn't make any sense."

 _T_ wo parallel lines appeared between her brows. Iza removed a hand she had put over her mouth. "I really don't know. I'm a seamstress, not a politician. The only reason I'm here is because the Fire Lady liked my work and asked the Fire Lord if I could take over the empty position.

"Why don't you go ahead and take a bath? I'll go get it ready for you. It's connected to my room." She bustled off and left Kanna to herself.

She hadn't meant to upset Iza, but her habit of thinking aloud wasn't something the woman had caught on to. When she returned, Kanna apologized, but Iza waved it away like anything else said in seriousness and led her into the bathroom.

Iza apologized for the cold water, but Kanna didn't mind; she actually preferred it. She sat in the tub for what felt like an hour, though when she was dried and clean, Iza told her it'd only been twenty minutes.

Somehow, she wasn't as dirty as she'd expected. She washed her hair out with some creamy mixture in a blue container and washed her skin off with a green bar of soap that smelled like tea.

As she stood up to dry off, she ignored a quiet voice in the back of her mind. _Six months? You've probably lost all progress you made. You aren't strong enough. That's why they let you out: because you're useless now._ She unplugged the drain and watched the water swirl down the tub.

* * *

As soon as she laid down, she fell asleep, only to be woken seconds later by daylight pouring through the window. She groaned and rolled over on her stomach. After not getting enough proper sleep, it was all she wanted. All she wanted that she could plausibly get, that is. She decided if they finished early again today, she would take a nap.

After straightening her clothes and hair, she walked out, found Iza sitting at the table. There were two cups of tea and two bowls, steaming and enticing Kanna. She sat down across from her and began to eat, thanking her quietly. Rice, "leaks," carrots, and some pale vegetable similar to carrot were in the bowl, seasoned even. Not that dinner had been bad, but starting the day off with an adequate portion of a meal was more exciting than going to bed with a heavy stomach.

She'd thought about offering to help Iza with the cooking, when she realized the food was too different. If she wanted to help, she'd need Iza to teach her how to cook these meals, unless she simply cut the vegetables.

Most of her skills were useless here. She couldn't cook, couldn't bend snow to clear a path for the elderly, and they had probably never so much as seen a sea prune. The only thing she was good for here was sewing straight lines and being angry.

They headed into the sewing room, where Iza put her in charge of the prince's robes, a v _ery_ big responsibility, Kanna assumed. It didn't matter much to her either way. If anything, she just spent more time thinking about him being frozen to the ceiling in the great, big ballroom they were sure to have. She imagined that he set the robes on fire and was burnt a bit in the process. It was mean-spirited, yes, but she figured she had the right to be after what his nation had done to her family.

Iza went out to take care of some business that involved talking. Kanna was glad she couldn't be spared. She didn't want to talk, all she wanted to do was daydream about that rotten prince at the homecoming ceremony, and breaking out of the palace. That kept her smiling as she worked.

She was focused on the left sleeve of the prince's robes when Iza rushed into the room. "Oh, dear, I know you haven't finished the robes yet, but we need the prince to try it on to make sure it fits properly."

Kanna finished a stitch and tore at the thread with her teeth as she stood, answering, "I've just finished sewing the sleeves on. Should we send it to the-" She looked up to see a tall man standing beside Iza. His hair partially covered an old scar that spanned over his eye and upper cheek, back to his ear. The eye on the scarred side was slightly open and seemed to work properly, though she wondered how his eyelid could have protected it that well.

Looking to him, she asked, "Are you taking this to the prince?"

Iza gave her a terrified look, but she did not understand her error.

His one eyebrow pulled down, and he crossed his arms over his chest. Steam emerged from his nostrils. "Just who do you think I am?"

She was taken aback. Rather than apologizing for something she didn't understand, she answered honestly. "I wouldn't know. I am a foreigner; the only people I've seen here are guards, soldiers, Jee Sang, firebenders, and Iza."

"I am the crown prince of the Fire Nation," he said in a self-righteous manner. "Who are you?"

Her heart hammered in her chest. Quickly, she bowed, her upper body parallel to the ground. Well, he'd already been burnt, then. "Please forgive me, Your Highness. I am from the Water Tribe. We do not have royalty. I am sorry to have dishonored you."

She heard him scoff. "What about that Princess Yue?"

Remaining in her position, she answered. "She is of the Northern Tribe, Your Highness. In the Southern Tribe, we have chiefs, who are treated as wise leaders, but not to the degree of royalty. We do not bow to chiefs as your citizens bow to you."

"What would your chief say, seeing you bow to me?"

A strange, overwhelming calmness fell over her, as though she was filled with so much anxiety that her emotions had completely shut down. "I do not think he could say anything, Your Highness. I believe he is dead."

He seemed to pause for the briefest moment, then resumed his questioning. "Did this chief have children?"

"Yes," she said quietly. "A son and a daughter. The son was in war with him, so I believe he is dead as well." Realizing she missed a phrase, she hastily added, "Your Highness."

"What of the daughter?"

Kanna hesitated. "She died during the raid."

"Hmph. Well, that's enough of that. Let me try on the robes and be rid of this peasant," he said to Iza.

She stood up straight, handing the robes to Iza, who fitted them over the prince. Kanna followed meekly behind with pins, marking the length of the sleeves, while Iza worked on the bottom section. He wasn't the tallest man she'd seen, but she was glad she'd made the sleeves extra long. It seemed that his wingspan was farther reaching than his height. Her hands strayed from the sleeve as she felt the heat emanating from the prince's skin.

It was him, the firebender, the man with his back to her, fighting with his younger sister. And Kanna had been right. Here he was, intimidating a foreigner and servant, someone well below his station, someone he unabashedly called a peasant. His sister probably learned it from him, she decided.

She was surprised his clothes didn't catch fire from his heat and temper. Heat rushed to her own face, which she tried to hide by scowling, but she was so focused on scowling and not touching him that she stuck her first finger with a pin.

"Ah!" She popped her finger into her mouth and sucked the blood away, tasting metal.

"Are you new at this?"

She scowled up at him, finger still in her mouth.

He looked away.

As she finished pinning the sleeves, she remembered something she'd wanted to know. Since it concerned him, she saw no reason not to ask him directly. "I understand we are welcoming you home, Your Highness. May I ask where you have been?"

He glared down at her, pulling his arm from her reach. His response was only a mutter. "Filthy tribal peasant."

She shot up to her full height, staring him in the eyes. Her words were lined with acid. "It was a simple question. I don't understand your ways. If I've offended you, I'm sorry. I did it unknowingly."

"Kanna," Iza said, warning, her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Your Highness," she snapped.

"Prince Zuko, please forgive her. Her ways are not so polished as ours, but I am sure she meant no offense. I doubt she has ever heard even your name in her land. Isn't that right?" She looked to Kanna.

"Yes, in fact, I have never heard it before this moment. Please accept a humble apology, from a filthy tribal peasant of the south, Prince Zuko."

He stared at her, fuming. "You are too bold, Kanna of the Southern Water Tribe. Were you close friends with the chief's dead daughter?"

"Not friends, but close enough, Your Highness."

"Would you like to be sent back to the dungeon?"

"It makes no difference, Prince Zuko. Wherever I am in this country, I am a prisoner."

"Is that so much worse than what you were in the poverty of your homeland?"

She refused to turn her eyes from him. "In my homeland, I was taken care of and loved."

He said nothing, but removed the robe and tossed it at her. It covered her head and she stood, momentarily blind, while he stepped close to her and whispered. "Watch yourself, girl. I will be the next Fire Lord."

She hated him more than she imagined she would.


	2. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks again for the reviews, follows, and favorites.**

 **People have asked about Katara being referred to as Kanna throughout the narrative. At this point, she doesn't feel like she's herself anymore, and prefers to think of herself as a different person. It's like she told Zuko last chapter, "She died in the raid," metaphorically, that is. I drew the parallel because Gran-Gran had left the Northern Water Tribe, and was taken into the Southern, not exactly an outsider, but something of an "other" type. She will reveal her true name in upcoming chapters.**

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One problem Iza had was explaining all the details. Where Kanna would be living, that the royal family actually came into the sewing room for fittings, and astonishingly, that they would be attending the prince's homecoming ceremony.

She'd learned from her first meeting with Prince Zuko that she should act like she believed herself a peasant in his family's presence. The princess said little but seemed tense and fidgeted, said she was busy and this better not take long. When the Fire Lord came in, she said nothing and was careful to never touch him, shrunk into herself. No one would know unless she did or said something.

As long as she kept up the pretense, she could find a way out and only Iza would notice her missing. Kanna wondered if Iza would miss her; they'd only known each other a few days. But she remembered the woman's story and sighed. Her husband was killed in the war, and her children were off in the colonies. She didn't really have anyone either. Would she be okay if she just disappeared?

She kept thinking about the Fire Lady, who had hired Iza. Where was she? She didn't ask, but when the clothes were finished and there were only three fittings, she got the gist. The Fire Lady couldn't put her children in a well deserved time out because she wasn't here, possibly wasn't alive. Remarrying probably wasn't something the Fire Lord cared about, and she doubted anyone would be happy to take on that duty.

It was the day of the ceremony when Iza finally told her they would be attending. Kanna was sitting at a table in the sewing room, looking out at the sun, her face resting in her hand. A few firebenders were training, but she did her best to ignore them.

She heard Iza sigh. "Well, the ceremony officially begins at noon."

Just over an hour away, she thought. "It's nice to be done with all the sewing for now."

"Yes, but now we have to get ready to go."

Kanna turned to her. "Go where?"

Iza grinned. excited. "To the ceremony, of course."

"What? I thought all I had to do was help you sew." She would not be able to remain calm around that vile man. If she went, she'd end up in the dungeon again and have no way out.

"Remember what I said about assimilating? That's part of this. Everyone that works in the palace is invited, unless they work in the kitchens or are guards. And then there's all the delegates and politicians and nobility. We're treated as part of the family."

I'd rather die than be part of that family, she thought. "So I have to go."

"I've never looked at it that way, but I suppose so."

This might actually be her chance to get out of here. It would be crowded, everyone would be distracted. All she had to do was slip away unseen. She'd done that before, she could do it now. "Let's get ready, then."

Iza focused on Kanna first. She brushed her hair down around her shoulders and made a small topknot with the upper section of her hair. It was the same hairstyle the royals wore. She wasn't sure if it was okay, but Kanna didn't say anything. Here, it was better to remain ignorant than to question, and Iza would think she was assimilating.

She handed Kanna a pile of clothes, which she looked through in confusion. What order they went on it, she wasn't exactly sure. Iza had her undress and helped her with the new clothes, showing her how they went on: tunic first, then the dress, then the overlay, and tie it off with the belt. Kanna slipped on the same shoes she'd been wearing. Luckily they weren't dirty.

Thinking they were done, Kanna went to sit down and wait, but Iza grabbed her hand. "Makeup is important on these occasions," she said. She held in a groan as she sat on a stool in front of Iza. Powder, eye shadow, eyeliner, and lipstick were applied.

When she went to the mirror in the back, she wanted to cry. She was dressed in the enemy's colors, painted in their makeup, wearing their shoes, living in their home, stranded their country, surrounded by them. Rage built quietly inside her, rooting in her chest. She would get out, and it would be today.

They went downstairs after Iza had finished herself, stood outside what Kanna imagined was that grand ballroom. The older woman gossiped with another that stood nearby. It looked like everyone in the palace was jammed into this relatively small area. She tried to breathe slowly and not think about chickening out when the time came.

"Oh, Prince Zuko has grown into such a handsome young man," Iza said.

Kanna did her best to keep her face still and voice silent. If he hadn't had that scar he might be handsome, but there would still be the unfortunate addition of his personality and temperament.

Another woman beamed. "I think so, too. He should be getting married soon, you know. Needs to have a child." She looked to Kanna and elbowed her lightly in the ribs. "What do you think? Is the prince handsome enough for you?"

She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, wishing to be gone already. "He is handsome, yes." Lying for the sake of saving face wasn't something she was used to. With so few people in her homeland and such little variation in status, there had been no reason to lie.

"Would your beau be jealous?" she asked, continuing to tease her.

Spirits, let this end, she thought.

The woman realized she was distressing the girl. "I'm sorry, I'm a big gossip. Iza can tell you all about that. I'm Chima."

"Kanna," she replied.

The spirits did let it end, and soon. A pair of guards opened the large double-doors, and the guests went streaming in. Kanna and the others stood back, waiting until most had gone in so they had some room to breathe.

Everyone was laughing, joking, smiling. They stood in small groups as they ate, walked around a bit, finding people they knew, being introduced by acquaintances. Even the men looked happy. Half a day off of work, free food, a party; what was to be upset about?

Kanna followed Iza and Chima throughout the room, looking for exits. There was one at each corner of the hall, guarded by two soldiers each. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think up an escape plan. Some of the bathrooms in the palace had windows. Maybe she could sneak out of one, but it was too early for that; they'd only just got here. She decided to wait fifteen minutes before heading to the bathroom.

Iza introduced her to at least ten other workers in that time span. They were some young women who weaved the cloth and young men that caught fish. The women talked about the prince, saying they hadn't seen him since they were small children, just a year or two older than he. Most of them had married, but some wondered what it would be like to marry him. Kanna supposed they had not been in his presence since he was a child. Wealth and power were the only things they would get from a marriage to him. The men talked about the food and the drinks, glancing not so subtly at Kanna every once in awhile. She did her best not to gag. A Fire Nation man would never tempt her.

It was time to excuse herself, she decided. She headed to the closest bathroom and went in, only to find longest line she'd ever seen. It would be suicide to try to escape with all these witnesses. She tried the other bathrooms, and at the final one, found it empty. Closing the door behind her, she looked at the walls, found no window. Perfect. She took to searching the floor for indentations. Maybe there would be a trapdoor or something.

The door opened. "Are you alright?" a voice asked.

She looked up suddenly. "Oh, I thought I lost an earring, but I found it," she said, holding her empty hand closed, hiding the non-existent earring. She headed out, hearing the woman behind her say, "Your ears are pierced?"

They weren't, but she would never know.

Her slapdash plan was ruined. She would have to wait longer to get out of here. It might take months before she could come up with a real plan to get out, but she wasn't going to give up. What was left of her family and tribe needed her, and she needed them. All she had known was ripped from her before she understood what was happening, and now she had to take it back. She wasn't going to let the Fire Nation keep her here, a prisoner without the proper title.

She rejoined Iza and drank a from a cup she handed her. She smelled it before she tasted it: alcohol. It probably wasn't the best idea, but she drank it down anyway. They were celebrating, and she was self-pitying; it was a good cover.

No one could expect that she actually cared about this event. Some angry, childish man from the country she was against had come home and was having a big party. It was all a joke to her. While her family was broken and lost, his was coming together. There was more food than she'd seen in one place at one time, more drinks, more people, more everything. This country was the picture of excess. She wondered what they would do if they visited her home, saw all the stark differences. A smirk touched her lips as she drank from the glass.

"You're from the Water Tribe, right?" One of the fishermen came closer to her, drink in hand.

Oh, not again. "Yes," she said, doing her best to casually look anywhere else.

"That's really cool, I've never met a girl from there. Are they all as beautiful as you?" He stepped closer and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

She snatched his hand and held it tight, her own hand a vice. "Don't you ever touch me again. Do you understand?"

"Ah, geez!" He pulled his hand from hers and shook it out. A disgusted look crossed his face. "You really are some sort of savage." He walked off without a look back.

Everything was going wrong. She hadn't found a way out, a slimy fisherman made a pass at her, and she was still in this forsaken place. It couldn't have been worse.

And then the family came in. Iza found her and grabbed her arm tightly, cutting off her circulation. She wiggled her arm loose enough for her pulse to continue and watched as they entered. The princess came first, Azula. Her dress had been refashioned into a tunic and pants at her request, and looked as if it had been designed that way in the first place. Her better-than-thou sneer seemed to stay on her face permanently.

One girl in all pink jumped up and called out to the princess, smiling and waving. Azula appeared to like this, because her sneer grew wider and she waved back at her, and the girl beside her, tall and thin like a reed with two buns on top of her head. The reedy girl turned to the girl in pink and raised an eyebrow, said something under her breath.

Prince High-and-Mighty came next, looking like a cross between "woe is me" and a punk, so everything was normal. At least his clothes fit properly, she thought. She tightened her grip on the glass in her hand when he caught her eye, and she turned away to get more to drink.

Iza made a grab for her hand, but she snuck through. No one moved for her, so she pushed her way through, until a guard caught her wrist and held her still. He informed her that when the royal family was entering for a ceremony, it was custom to wait and welcome them, then take care of personal matters afterwards. She did her best not to roll her eyes at the comment, but she stayed where she was, trying to remove the man from her.

"I will escort you back to your caretaker when the Fire Lord has given his speech," he said, still holding on to her.

Caretaker. So that's how this all worked. Prisoners were released, given work, and put into the hands of someone else to watch over them. Kanna figured Iza knew but didn't like to think about it, or really had no idea. She was empty headed in the first place, and she'd only known her for a week. Someone could put on an act for a week, pretend to be someone else. She was doing it herself.

She watched as the man-child stood beside his sister, and the Fire Lord entered the room. Suddenly everyone was kneeling, except for the guards. Iza really didn't tell her anything. During the fitting, she gave him the same deep bow as she had for the prince and princess. Now she had to prostrate herself on the ground for the leader of a country of real savages. Her body wouldn't let her.

The guard shook her arm. "Kneel, civilian."

She ignored him, looked up into the Fire Lord's face, memorizing it, burning it into her mind. He stared at her with a slight smirk, amused. "Do you have a problem, child?" His words were gentle, but his voice held no sincerity.

A scowl stretched over her face. People were looking at her furtively. "Yes," she said.

The smirk grew. "And what would that be? Do you miss your cozy cell?"

"I miss my home. I miss my family. My mother is dead. The entire tribe could be burnt to the ground for all I know. I've lost everything, all because of you, you heartless, heartless man!"

Her guard pushed her to the ground, forcing her to kneel, and held her by the wrists behind her back. She suddenly realized the severity of what she had just done. So much for pretending to assimilate.

"Oh, Father, can I do it?" asked Azula.

He shook his head, still looking at Kanna. "It is your brother's party. He will fight her."

Her head moved back to take in more of the scene. Azula pouted and crossed her arms. She looked to the prince. His expression had changed, between hesitation and some emotion she couldn't place. It'd been a week since the Northerner sang the mourning song to her, but now she was really facing death. She began to hum quietly, her eyes never wavering from the prince's.

"She's not a firebender," he said at length. "An Agni Kai would make no sense, Father."

"Would you prefer to execute her?"

Her heart stopped, and she stared pleadingly at the prince. _I just want to go home,_ she thought. He had to understand that, if he'd been away from his own home for years. She hoped he had some sort of decency, even though she'd been harsh with him.

Instead of answering the Fire Lord, he turned to Kanna. "Can you fight?"

"Yes," she said, keeping her voice strong.

"What weapon?"

She hesitated. The voice in her head grew louder, but she hushed it. "I can waterbend."

He nodded. "Then we will spar, but the rules and outcome will be like that of an Agni Kai. Is that acceptable?" he asked his father.

The Fire Lord stroked his chin. "I don't see why not, though it'd be simpler to execute her. Alright then, we might as well do this now." He turned and his children followed him off the stage, and surrounded by guards, exited through the main door.

Her guard hauled her off the ground and forced her to walk, trailing after the nobles. She saw the pink and reedy girls just ahead of her. The tall one never looked back, but the other one, bubbly and animated, would turn around to look at her once in awhile and give her a smile.

They entered into a long room with a wide strip down the center. She breathed deeply through her nose, wondering how she had gotten to this point. And an Agni Kai, something she hadn't heard of ever before.

The prince and all the other nobility stood on the opposite side. An old, grey-bearded man similar in stature to Iza stood beside Prince Zuko, speaking quietly to him. He didn't seem to be listening, only disrobed and watched Kanna. He stood, his arms crossed against his broad chest, strikingly pale in contrast with his black pants. There were some sort of bracelets or bands on his upper arms, just below his armpits.

After half a second, she realized she should get ready and took off her shoes, humming the mourning song just in case. She moved lightly, noticing that the dress, long with excess fabric, would be bad to fight in. After a moment of preparing herself, she untied the belt, removed the overlay, the dress, took off the tunic underneath. She stood in her white wrappings, looking back at the prince. He didn't stop looking her in the face, his own blank of all emotion.

"Do you know the rules?" he asked.

"No, Prince Zuko."

He seemed surprised at the sincerity with which she answered. "It's a fight about honor. Because you disrespected my father during an event held for me, you have challenged my honor. An Agni Kai is between two firebenders, and the first to be burned loses."

She swallowed thickly.

"The winner gains more honor, while the loser relinquishes theirs. Because you don't firebend, this is less formal, but just as serious. For me to win, I have to burn you. Former General Iroh has determined that in order for you to win, you have to do something drastic."

Former general. Was it the uncle Iza had been talking about? "Like what?"

"We don't know a lot about waterbending, young lady, so that would be up to you to decide. Do you have any ideas?" The man, the former general, that had spoken to the prince gave her a thin smile.

She hesitated. "What if I froze him to the ceiling?"

The older man laughed and held his belly. "I would enjoy seeing that. Yes, that seems fair, I think. What do you say, Prince Zuko?"

He only nodded.

They waited for a minute or so, while a servant brought in four large tubs of water and set two on either side of the Agni Kai strip. She washed the makeup from her face, saw the former general give her another smile, as did the girl in pink. The girl with buns held one of the prince's arms, and the princess leaned against a wall, looking peeved.

The prince held her gaze. She tried to hide her feelings: confusion, relief, anger, and a multitude of others she didn't have the chance to think about. He might set her on fire with just his eyes. _Is it because I stood up to him at the fitting? she wondered._

"Take your places," said the Fire Lord, who stood apart from the rest.

The prince went to one end of the stip, turned away from her and sat on his haunches. Kanna took the same position, her heart hammering in her chest. He's going to burn me like they burned Mom.

"Rise and face your opponent."

Her legs shook beneath her as she stood, turned to look at the prince. The scar on his face struck her anew. It was old, very old, deep and dark. He'd been in an Agni Kai and lost. It must have been years ago, when he was a child...when he left his home. She looked to the Fire Lord, who raised an eyebrow at her.

"Begin."

The prince wasted no time. He lunged towards her and shot fireballs from his fists. She bent water from the tub and froze it into a shield, too worried about being burnt to be excited that she hadn't lost her bending. She held it in front of her while he continued to charge, but it quickly began to melt, and she refroze them into sharp, thin icicles. He kicked her feet out from under her and sent her to the ground.

As he sent a blow to her chest, she rolled over and shot the icicles at his throat, hurried to get back to her feet. He melted them before they had a chance to touch him and moved forward to attack again. She pulled water from another tub, backing away from him and forming a whip.

He went after her with more force, his breath quick and even. As he spun, getting his momentum up to kick a flame at her, she managed to grab his ankle with the whip. Someone let out a laugh, the princess she assumed, but he severed the whip instantly. He sent a wave of fire, and she shot water at it, forming steam. She was preparing to take the offensive, but he sent two more waves and she struggled to dissipate them.

He's always on the offensive, she realized. If there was some way for her to force him into defense, she might be able to win. She heaved every drop of water out of the tubs and began to form a large ball of water between them. Her arms moved in figure eight patterns to shape it correctly. It was almost right, she just needed a second more.

The water spilled everywhere as the prince erupted through it, and shot a blast of fire at her. Unable to react, she fell to the ground, felt her right shoulder burning and stared at the ceiling. She heard most of the onlookers cheer, calling out the prince's name.

"Whoop-de-doo," the princess said in a bored voice.

Slowly, Kanna sat up and bent some water around her left hand, looked at her shoulder. The burn wasn't bad, wasn't meant to do more harm than necessary; it was just enough to get the job done. If she'd had more-no, _proper_ -training, she might have been able to stand a chance. That water whip was probably just luck. This man had likely been training since he could walk. No one can be the Fire Lord if they aren't a firbender, she'd learned. So he had to be a strong one, and he was.

She placed her hand over her shoulder. The cheering hushed as they saw what she was doing, saw the water on her hand glow. Then they began to whisper to each other. What is she doing, what is she doing? She pulled her hand away to inspect the burn. It was still red, some blood dripping onto her wraps and staining them. Only first degree, she noted. It would still scar. Her healing abilities weren't very strong, but at least it wouldn't hurt as badly. The audience started chattering, Kanna only able to pick out the words and phrases "special ability," "healing," "waterbender," "women," and "Northern Tribe." She wasn't sure how the last two worked into the group, and was disappointed citizens of the Fire Nation knew more about waterbending history than herself.

When her breathing slowed to normal, she stood cautiously, and walked to the prince, who stood on the other side of the strip, the tall girl on him again. He looked at her quizzically, uncomprehending. Her parents hadn't raised her to be a sore loser. She bowed deeply to him, then straightened up. "Welcome home, Prince Zuko." They weren't the most sincere words she'd ever said, but she meant it enough.

Then she made her way to the Fire Lord, and bowed in the same manner. "You have a strong son, Your Highness. You must be proud of him." It was the only true thing she could say to him.

He scoffed. "To have defeated an untrained waterbender from a tribe that broke from the rule of their royalty? It was hardly a challenge, scum. I could still have you executed."

She stood silent, feeling everyone's eyes on her. _You already had a quasi-Agni Kai with the prince_ , she thought, _the next time you mess up, he probably_ will _kill you._ Instead of following instinct, she gave him a simpering, overly-sweet smile. "Of course, Your Highness. I suppose someone of my station can have nothing to say that would interest you. Please excuse me." She bowed again, turned and headed back to her clothes.

A sigh escaped her, heavy but quiet. She slipped the tunic on, but it scratched against her wound. Frustrated, she took it back off and tried to heal herself a bit more. There wasn't any loose fabric that she could use for a bandage. It looked about the same, and she accepted that it was the best she could do for the moment.

"That was quite a fight, young lady. What was your name again?"

She turned to see the former general standing there, holding out a piece of cloth. "Oh, thank you," she said as she took it and held it in her hand. Could it be poisoned? He might just be putting on the sweet old man act. "It's Kanna."

"But you're from the Southern Water Tribe?" His eyebrow furrowed over dark brown eyes.

She looked at him, uncertain. "Yes."

He laughed at little. "It's just that, in my journeys, Kanna was a popular name in the Northern Tribe, so I wasn't sure if I heard your name correctly."

She looked at the bandage, avoiding his gaze. "Well, we're all originally from the north, so it was probably just passed down even after we settled in the south."

"Would you like help with that? Prince Zuko!" he called, looking over his shoulder to the young man.

He was putting his tunic back on, talking to the girl with buns. A small smile flashed across her face, then disappeared as quickly as it had emerged. He smiled back at her, took her hand in his. The princess rolled her eyes, but the girl in pink grinned, shook the princess by the arm.

When the prince didn't respond, he called again. "Nephew, come here."

Kanna watched as he reluctantly let go of the girl's hand and came forward. "Yes, Uncle?"

"Help this young lady with her bandage, would you?"

"Oh, sir, please, I am not a lady. Where I'm from, we don't-"

He cut her off. "The term is not one of nobility here, Kanna. It simply means that you are a woman, and should be treated as one. Isn't that right, Nephew?" he asked, grinning at the prince.

The prince sighed in exasperation. "Yes, Uncle."

The name struck her. Uncle to the prince and princess; brother of the Fire Lord or the Fire Lady. Deserving of more respect, for the strange reason of family ties. She gave the man a deep bow as she had to the prince and the Fire Lord. "Please forgive me, I don't know how to call you, sir."

The former general broke out into a laugh. "Iroh. Everyone calls me Iroh. And you don't have to bow like that to me. I'm just an old man, dear."

Was he kidding? The Fire Lord and his children seemed to love their titles and watching the citizens humble themselves. Maybe he was the Fire Lady's brother. "Very well, Iroh. Thank you for the bandage and your concern." She bowed lightly and turned away, starting to bandage herself. It might be poisoned, but it didn't look like it, and if she didn't put it on, they might suspect her all the more.

"It isn't going to be tight enough." Another pair of hands took over for her, wrapping the bandage around her shoulder.

She let her own hands drop to her sides, feeling awkward and unsure of what to do. "I thought you gained honor and I lost it," she said quietly. Not that this strange sense of honor meant anything to her, but he was apparently stooping from his station to help her.

The prince exhaled deeply through his nose. "Yes, well, my uncle has worked hard to make sure I'm not a sore winner."

She stayed silent as he finished his work. For fighting so powerfully, his hands were actually quite gentle. Her skin felt like it was burning again, not from the wound, but where his skin touched hers. It seemed firebenders couldn't keep their temper _or_ temperature under control.

"Son," called the Fire Lord.

The prince looked up, tied the bandage quickly, and was gone. He took the tall girl's arm again and walked out with her, followed by the princess and girl in pink. The few other nobles that had come to watch the prince fight the riffraff went off without another look at her.

* * *

 **Another AN: I took some liberty with whom Katara/"Kanna" would fight in the Agni Kai by changing the reasoning a bit. Zuko's Agni Kai was against his father because it was in his father's war room, and yes, the ballroom would be his as well, but the Fire Lord would've just killed her, and then there'd be no more story.**

 **This chapter was kind of hard, because I wasn't sure if I was throwing her into too much conflict too quickly, but I feel like Katara likes confrontation so there it is.**

 **My classes start Tuesday (1/19/16) so I'm sorry in advance that I won't be able to update every week!**

 **Leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 4

**AN: More thanks for reviews, follows, favorites, and for being patient. Life hasn't been easy on me, but I really wanted to get something out so here it is. Let me know what you think. :)**

* * *

She wasn't in the mood to sit around feeling useless. She wasn't in the mood to do much of anything really, but since that wasn't an option, Kanna practiced her katas. Her movements were slow and thoughtful, but her body was tense, likely because she kept thinking about how badly she was beaten by the prince.

Of course he had great advantages over her. He grew up surrounded by benders, was trained from a young age, instructed by masters. Even though he had never encountered a water bender before, he was able to subdue her quickly. And now she'd "lost" something they called "honor," something in her culture that could not be taken away by another. Honor was thrown aside, but never stolen.

Frustrated, she paused in her practice to jump up and down, shaking her arms to loosen them up. She took her stance and began again, this time more quickly. It didn't help. She would have to calm down before she was able to practice properly, but her agitation did not seem like it would leave soon. Rather than continue and strain herself, she collapsed on the floor and looked out her window.

It was a blank sky, pale blue, not a cloud in sight. This sky was strange to her. She was used to cloud cover over the entire landscape, but here the sun touched everything beneath it. Iza would say it was a nice day, but Kanna felt like she might melt. The difference in culture was too great for her to think she could ever become used to the place.

She rolled onto her side, tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Everything in her was drained, and she wanted to rest, when a question entered her mind, unbidden. _What would Sokka do if he were here?_ Her gut tensed and she clutched a blanket to her chest. There was no use thinking about it, because he wasn't here. She closed her eyes and pretended she was anywhere else, hoping to escape the pain and longing.

Fear clung to her. That she would always feel this pain of separation, or worse, that she might become numb to it. That the loss of her family, home, and culture might one day have as much significance as one of the many cuts she had received while fishing. Everything had been obliterated that day, but they still put her on that boat, the next day still came, and the next. The world did not care that hers was gone forever. Somehow the world still turned and people still lived their lives, but hers was at a standstill. She was still on the beach, unable to comprehend.

The day melted into evening and Iza arrived home, walking with an odd gait. She giggled and told Kanna about the rest of the party, which was very uneventful in her opinion, until a group knocked on the door and heckled Iza to go out and celebrate some more. The woman feigned reluctance, but with more badgering from her friends, she went off with them, to drink more, Kanna supposed.

With nothing else to do, she laid back down and continued staring at the ceiling. The sorrow crept into her chest, and she thought of everything and everyone she loved. Nothing was right. She was a lie in personified, and she wondered if she ever made it out, would she remember who she was? Or would she have turned into nothing more than the lie? Kanna. Southern Water Tribe. Savage. Assistant seamstress. Troublemaker. That was all she was now.

The people here had no idea of the rich diversity of her tribe, the diversity of herself as an individual. Not that she answered peoples' questions truthfully, or that she ever willingly told them about her life. The less they knew, the safer she was, and the better her chance of escaping.

She sang quietly, her voice trembling. It wasn't what she'd meant to sing. It was the song for those far from home, lost and weary. Tears filled her eyes as she continued, unsure if she sang for herself or her father and brother. How would she ever get home when this entire country was a prison, when she was in the center of it?

Before she finished, her voice broke and she fell into great, heaving sobs. She held the blanket to her chest desperately, gritting her teeth and wailing to the ceiling. Why was this happening? Why why why. If they knew who she was, it would only be harder to get out. She might be treated marginally better, but she refused to consider it. That act would be one of betrayal, surrender. It would let them know she was hopeless, and although she distinctly felt it, she wasn't going to let them see it on her face.

When the tears ended, stillness and silence took her. She fell asleep from exhaustion, her head in pain from crying, and her heart heavy with grief. A dream followed, strange and unsettling.

She was outside of the sewing room, then walking down the stairs. Only the guards were there, standing at the bottom of the stairs. The fire in their hands cast shadows across the walls that danced like terrifying and excitable monsters. Unsure of what to do, she turned and headed upstairs. When she'd made it to the top, she found no one. It was devoid of all light but for the few stars that shined through the small windows. Cobwebs clung to corners of the walls and dust covered the floor. Not even the footstep of a badger-mouse disturbed the thick dust. She walked cautiously, sideways to avoid hitting anything, her arms out on either side to detect whatever might be there.

Her heart sank and she let her arms rest at her sides. She wasn't going to escape from here. After she broke the windows and alerted the guards, she would have to make it down all the floors.

She breathed deeply and let it out through her nose, turned back, and made her way down the stairs. On the stairs down to the seventh floor, she saw a figure walking up. Panicking, she shoved herself into the corner above the steps, not breathing, her eyes wide. She listened hard but heard no steps, and wanted to cry. Fatigue was taking over, and she was losing it. If she couldn't keep it together, there was no way she was going to get out. She wondered if they could kill her for wandering around late at night, then remembered they almost killed her for not kneeling.

Someone cleared their throat, made it to the top of the steps. They made no move to continue on their way, and Kanna couldn't see them from where she was. She kept absolutely still, her muscles shaking with fright. The person grunted and walked on down the hall, opened a door, closed it.

She stood still, unsure if they had entered the room or were waiting for her. Steeling herself, she peaked out, saw all the doors closed, no one in the hall.

A small breath of relief escaped her lips, but then she was on the verge of screaming. Before the sound could leave her mouth, a masked figure that had dropped silently from the ceiling put a finger to it's lips. It worked, and the words died on her tongue, but she still stared at him with large eyes and put her body in a fighting stance. The figure-a man-did not, only continued to stand with his arms at his sides.

"What are you doing?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

He pointed at her, put his hands under the side of his head like a pillow and watched her expectantly.

She took a step back, her brow furrowing. Was he biologically mute, or was it voluntarily? "I only see my mother dying when I sleep. Or my brother and dad being tortured," she said contemptuously.

The figure didn't know how to respond, and looked down for a second, then back to her. Then he motioned for her to follow him.

She took another step back.

He looked around for something, then picked up a potted plant and pointed into it.

"Plants?"

He shook his head, paused, unsure of how to proceed. After a beat, he lifted the pot to his face and pretended to drink from it.

"Water?"

He nodded emphatically.

"Why?" she asked, incredulous.

He pointed at her, then moved his arms up and down, motioned back to the plant.

"You want to see me bend?"

He nodded again, giving a hand signal of encouragement.

It sparked inside her. Suddenly everything felt good and clean and new. He believed in her. It didn't matter who he was, as long as it was someone. A smile overtook her face, she moved forward to embrace him. As she settled against him, he stroked her hair, when she felt a sharp pain in her back. She looked up at him in disbelief, her mouth agape. The mask was gone and she saw his face. His skin was smooth and pale, devoid of any unseemly marks. Golden eyes had turned a deep brown, and his lips turned up at the corners in a heartless smirk.

He chuckled. "Your kind will be gone soon."

Kanna sat up with racing heart, gasps ripping her throat. She pushed her hands against her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow, then put them on the sides of her head, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind raced to burn the face and mask into her mind only to realize the fear had driven them out. She groaned and fell on her back, an arm thrown over her eyes. Her mind focused on breathing calmly.

"It was a dream, it was a dream, it was a dream..." She repeated the phrase until it seemed to lose meaning, until all that was left was a sick feeling that latched onto her memory. A sigh escaped her and she turned onto her side to stare at the door.

* * *

She avoided the main hallways, the kitchens, anywhere congestion was normal, and walked as close to a jog that she could. The more she avoided people, the safer she felt. They couldn't kill her if they couldn't catch her.

Despite this, she made herself more conspicuous by bleaching her dress white, then redyeing it blue. She didn't wear shoes, she wouldn't wear makeup, and she returned to wearing her hair loopies as she had before her capture and imprisonment. Wherever she walked, she kept her head high and looked directly into peoples' eyes. More people heard about this than saw it themselves since she was never around to be seen.

It wasn't really people in general she was avoiding. It was the prince. Although he had been kind in the placement of her burn, she felt anxious, afraid she would meet him somewhere and not be able to get away. That would be from his uncle, who seemed to kind to be blood related to the Fire Lord. But as luck would have, she ran into him two weeks after the Agni Kai.

She had been running, looking behind her when her body met with something solid and was thrown to the floor. A guard called out and she heard footsteps rushing forward to meet her.

"What's going on?"

Kanna looked up and her heart fell. Great.

The prince was looking to the guards for a response.

One spoke up. "She was bending."

He looked at the guard, waiting for more information. "And?" he asked hotly.

The other guards looked away, while the one that spoke stumbled over his words and said nothing of substance.

The prince rolled his eyes. "Bending is allowed, training is allowed. That's what benders do, regardless of their status here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Prince Zuko," they all echoed.

"Go on, then."

They scurried away with their tails between their legs, while Kanna was still on the ground, mortified and furious.

She stood up and straightened her dress, bowed to him, and turned to go. He grabbed her shoulder, and she had to restrain the instinct to fight back. She smothered the thought that he would beat her just the same as before. As she turned to face him, she grit her teeth hard.

"You're okay," he said, more than asked.

"Yes, thank you, Prince Zuko. Please excuse me."

"Wait."

She did. When he didn't say anything, she prompted him. "Is there something I can do for you, Your Highness?"

"Um." He bit his lip, shook his head, absentmindedly waving her off. "No. Go on, Kala."

She smirked as she bowed and left him. It was probably hard to remember names, and hers was unimportant to the royal family. She was the dark one, the savage one, the one with creepy eyes, the troublemaker. Kala was close enough to Kanna was close enough to her real name, which no one on this continent needed to know.

It was nice to have a secret, but it was difficult to have no one to share it with. Instead exciting, it felt shameful. The truth wasn't only a secret: she herself was the secret.

As she continued to live in the palace, her moods fluctuated rapidly and without warning. Her acceptance of the situation became blinding hatred for the Fire Nation, her apathy became depression, her fear became anxiety. She forgot to eat, or ate until her stomach hurt. She laid awake at night, afraid of the dreams that would come, nothing but fire at her front and knives at her back.

Although she trained every day, her heart was not in it; she only did so to feel some sort of normalcy. She faced away from the firebenders, but heard the flames crackling, their kicks whip through the air. An hour a day slowly whittled down to ten minutes a day when the firebenders weren't training.

One day she sat down and forced herself to watch them. Her reasoning was that the better she knew them, the better she could defend herself against them. To her relief, no one here could produce white flames. But then relief became bitterness and worry. He could still be out there, could be fighting against the Water Tribe.

"Lady Kanna." Iroh sat down beside her, his eyes on the benders.

She bowed her head. "Hello, Iroh."

"I see you've changed your clothing style."

Her heartbeat sped up and her breath caught in her throat.

"It suits you," he finished.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

They watched the firebenders, silent. She kept her focus on the prince and princess. He had more persistence, but she had more talent, bent almost carelessly and recklessly. Blue lightning shot into the sky from her fingers, a hard, proud smile on her face. The prince showed no emotion, worked more like an engine than an animal. He turned in his kata to face them, and shot a flame from his fist.

She jumped from her seat and held her hands to her chest, gasping.

Iroh stood beside her and took her arm. "Are you alright? Why don't we go inside and have some tea?" He tried to lead her away, but she resisted.

"No, I'm fine."

His face softened, saddened. "Avoiding your feelings is like avoiding the weeds in a garden. They'll become out of control, and you'll be lost in the stickers and thorns." He motioned to the flawless garden around them, picked a small flower and put it in her hand. "Beauty grows from everything naturally, but ugliness grows from suffering in silence, in not asking for help."

Her own face became hard. "Your wisdom doesn't reach the ears of your countrymen. I am everything this nation believes to be ugly, and it came to me naturally: through my blood and upbringing. " She dropped the flower and left him without bowing, unafraid because she knew there would be no consequences.

They weren't going to execute her. They were going to let her die slowly, through the erosion of herself, until she was smooth as a stone in the ocean. Then they would shape her in their forges, until she was fire itself.


	4. Chapter 5

**AN: Thanks again for the follows, favorites, reviews, and being patient. :)**

* * *

She shaved the grass down with a slice of water. The bits fell from the air and settled to the ground. It was a technique she'd been practicing for the past three weeks. Everyday, she made herself cut the grass down five times. She had to make sure that none of the gardeners were around, otherwise they would yell at her and ban her from the gardens.

With little else to do, her free time returned to bending. She woke up, ate, sewed, ate, sewed some more, trained, ate, and went to sleep. There was nothing new Iza wanted to teach her, who said she would have plenty of time to work on more difficult fabrics and stitches. It didn't bother her, but she needed some way to distract herself, and she wasn't ready to take on the art of Fire Nation cuisine.

"You're training again, I see."

She turned around to Iroh. "Yeah. There wasn't anything else I wanted to do. I already know this, so..." As she trailed off, she shrugged.

He smiled warmly. "Mastering a skill is a great feat, but learning something new is important as well. Would you teach me about waterbending? I can teach you a skill that is very important in my culture in return."

Kanna looked at him warily. "What would that be?"

"It can be solitary, or bring people together. It nourishes the soul and the body. It's the art of tea!"

"Tea?" she said, dumbfounded.

"Of course! You can drink it by yourself, or with another person, a small group, a large group, as intimate or celebratory as you like. It soothes your body, thus calming your mind, which is something I greatly need at the moment." He laughed.

She regarded him quietly, conceded. There was nothing else to do, and he was innocent and kind enough. "Alright, let's go."

The girl and old man sat at a table in his reception room. In front of her was a pot of boiled water, a teapot, and the leaves. He nodded for her to go ahead. She reached out and added some leaves into the teapot, then poured the water into the pot, and covered it with the lid, looked up at him expectantly.

"Do you prefer your tea strong?" she asked.

"I'll have it however you would like to make it."

She sat back and looked at her hands in her lap, picking at hangnails and ripping them off when she could get ahold of them. They tended to get infected, leaving her grandmother to cluck her tongue and say "I told you so." Here in the Fire Nation, she had to remove the puss herself. She'd tried to use her bending, but in the end only a needle would work.

"Kanna," he started.

"Ah!" She had jumped at the name and pulled a hangnail, blood pooling.

"Are you alright?" He stood and walked to her, kneeled to inspect her hand, but she wouldn't let him see, pulled her hand to herself.

She shook her head. "It's fine."

At length, he said, "Alright," and sat down across from her again. He cleared his throat. "Kanna, I can't pretend that I know what sort of person you were before you came here, but the changes I have seen over these months worry me. You fought against the poor treatment you received, stood up for your home and family, but now, you seem to have given up that passion..."

He continued talking, but she tuned out. That passion hadn't been given up, it was only dormant, hiding deep in the cave of her soul. It would come out again. He would see it, and know it had still been there. Iroh truly did not know what sort of person she had been before.

"Lady Kanna?"

She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at him. "Oh, the tea." The pot in her hands, she poured tea into the cups, one, two...three? She looked back to Iroh, confused. There had only been two.

"Come on, Water Tribe, pour me my tea."

She turned to see Princess Azula sitting by Iroh. Kanna stood and bowed to her, murmuring an apology for not noticing her, but the princess just rolled her eyes.

"Just gimme the tea and consider it over."

Kanna sat and served her the tea, then sat back, her hands under her legs, anxious.

The princess downed the tea, not bothering to taste it to her uncle's disapproval. "Ahh," she breathed, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Great stuff, Water Tribe. Tell the princess up there I'm a fan of your kind."

Fear shot through her body like lightning. Your kind. The phrase felt familiar, but she couldn't place it. All she knew was she didn't like the way it sounded.

"I am actually from the Southern Tribe, Princess Azula."

"Is that so? So who's the princess there?"

As the royal family from the most powerful country, Kanna assumed they would know something of the peoples beyond their borders, but apparently it was the same with prince and princess. "We have no royalty, Your Highness. We have a chief, chosen by the tribe."

"Hmm, interesting. But the chief would have a family, would they not?" She began breaking the skin of an orange with her thumbnail, sliding it with gentle but forceful pressure. The scent burst from the fruit and filled the room.

Iroh coughed and took a sip of tea, looked to Kanna.

"Yes," she answered. "They are not treated in the same manner as royalty, Your Highness. Elders are held to higher authority than the chief and their family."

She raised an eyebrow, still working slowly at the orange, her eyes never wavering from it. "It really is a different culture. According to that logic, shouldn't you show more respect to Father and Uncle, even my brother?"

A silence settled over the trio, save for the scratching of the princess' ceaseless nail. Kanna didn't know what she should say, but she knew what she was going to say.

She remained calm as she spoke, surprising herself. "This country is not mine; I don't believe I should pretend to act like a citizen, nor force the standards of my culture upon your people. I will show respect where respect is due, Princess."

The princess looked up from the orange, nodded slowly, looked Kanna in the eyes. "And yet you call me by my title. Are you sure you aren't mixing the rules, picking and choosing which you like to use?"

Iroh spoke up. "Azula, you do not know what Kanna has gone through, and I hope you never do. It is not your place to judge."

The princess leaned back with a pout. "Very well. Water Tribe, Uncle." She stood and left, leaving the half peeled orange behind.

Kanna let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in, picked up her tea, drank without tasting. She had thought that the prince was bad, but the princess appeared to be more dangerous now. The princess was cunning, ready to find all the holes and see where they led, while the prince simply ordered people around and made gloomy expressions. She wasn't sure what the princess would do with the information she'd given her, but know she was prepared to be on alert around her.

Eyes closed, she held the cup tightly in her hands, letting the warmth fill them. She missed sitting around a fire, hearing it crackle as her grandmother and mother spoke in the old tongue, quietly, as if the language itself were a secret. Kanna knew it, could speak it, but hadn't since that fateful day. _Shensha._ She'd cried it as the soldiers carried her away. As far as she could tell, it was probably the last word in the old tongue that she would ever speak.

Footsteps sounded through the hall, quick, the pace of a jog. She looked up to see the prince come to the door and stop short when he saw her. Kanna stood and bowed, stepped back and made to leave.

"No, it's alright, Kala, you can stay," he said, holding a hand at her to emphasize the point.

"Kala?" Iroh stared up at his nephew. "You think her name is Kala?"

The prince looked to her, confusion plastered across his face. "That isn't your name?"

She shook her head. "No, Your Highness."

"Well, what is it?"

"Kanna, Your Highness."

"Oh." He stood silently, while Kanna stood silently, while Iroh looked up at the two of them, confused.

"Nephew, was there something you wanted to tell me?" the old man asked.

"I just saw Azula, and she said you needed to see me about something."

Iroh grimaced, tried to hide it with a smile. "I just wondered if you would like to join us for tea!"

A voice called from the hall. "Zuko?" The tall girl from the party entered, looking at the occupants of the room, then fixed her eyes on him. "I thought we were going to go out."

He looked from his uncle to her. "Yeah, of course, I needed to speak to my uncle before we left."

"Lady Mai, why don't you join us for tea before you go? Lady Kanna was going to teach me about waterbending, and I'm sure it will be interesting."

"Okay," she agreed with a shrug, moving toward the table. The girl didn't seem to care either way, as long as she was beside the prince.

Kanna bowed again. "I don't want to intrude. Please enjoy yourselves."

"Nonsense! Sit down Kanna."

Overwhelmed and unable to get out, she took her place again, and poured two fresh cups. They drank in tense silence, until Iroh prompted Kanna about bending. She told what she knew about history and legend, which fit in the span of maybe five minutes, and was left to tell only of her experiences of bending, which felt strange, because it was so vague, only sensation and emotion. How was she supposed to describe something to people that never had, never would experience it?

The heat from the tea, stuck in her throat and belly, and she struggled to breathe.

"I-I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well. Please excuse me."

As she stood, Iroh said, "Zuko, help Lady Kanna to her room."

She refused. "No, please I'm fine, just overtired, I think."

The prince was standing, stuck between his Uncle's request and her wishes. "It won't take long." It was a simple, true statement, enough for Kanna to accept begrudgingly.

"Feel better, Lady Kanna."

Mai held up a hand in parting, looking more than a little disappointed.

She nodded to them and headed out, the prince behind her. Being with him only increased the tension. Her main goal the last months had been to avoid him, especially since that hallway incident, and it had gone well. She had seen him maybe once a week in passing, though she doubted he had seen her even half those times. It all worked out better when royalty was far off and out of sight.

He walked beside her at a slow pace, though she pushed it, hoping to be away from him sooner than soon. She felt something snake around her wrist and she jumped, breaking away from him with wild eyes.

"Sorry. I was going to say you shouldn't push yourself if you don't feel well." He held his hands up by his head.

She let out a sigh, exasperated. "You can go back to Lady Mai, Your Highness, I'll be fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"You startled me."

"You shouldn't be walking so quickly if you don't feel well."

"Well, you don't have to walk me."

"I know."

Kanna stared at him, looked away to stare at a wall.

"What if you fainted?"

She looked back to him. "I'm sure someone would inform Iza, Your Highness."

"Will you let me walk you back if I promise not to touch you again?"

Kanna surveyed him, weighed her options, marveled at the thought that she had more than one. She nodded.

They walked again, in between the paces they each had set. Most of the way back they didn't speak, but on the steps Kanna asked a question.

"Why are you so adamant about walking me back, Your Highness?"

He shrugged. "My uncle said I should. I mean, treat a woman like a woman, and all that. And you're the same age as my sister, so I guess..." He trailed off.

"You think of me like your sister, Your Highness?"

The prince seemed shocked at this. "No! I just. You seem like you're-nevermind, just forget it."

She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Was he more sensitive than he let on? Had his uncle's beliefs influenced him so much? "Yes, Your Highness."

She thought he would leave her at the door, but he opened it and walked in, letting Iza know that she'd been feeling unwell and to watch out for fevers or chills. It was a warm winter, but winter the same, and illnesses were going around like always. He made her sit down and left before they could say anything else.

The women looked at the empty space he had occupied, speechless.

"What's gotten into him?"

Kanna shrugged. "Maybe he realized servants are human."

A few days later, Iroh and the prince visited the sewing room to ask after Kanna's health. She was sewing, bored, lazy, mostly looking out the window and trying not to sigh, thinking of freedom. Iza had gone off to meet with more merchants for cloth. By this point, they were sewing uniforms for the soldiers, had been for weeks. But only those in the highest command, so that they received the most attention and care. Otherwise they would have needed an army themselves.

There was a knock on the door, three quick raps.

"Coming," she called.

She opened it, surprised, and took a step back. "Oh," she breathed, bowed to them. "Please come in."

"Lady Kanna, I'm glad to see you up. Are you feeling much better?" He stepped into the room, followed by the prince, who remained silent, his face solemn and stoic.

"Yes, thank you. I think I was just dehydrated. Would you like tea?"

The prince said, "That won't be necessary," the same time Iroh exclaimed, "Of course!"

She stood frozen, her lips parted, unsure. The prince was acting strange. He never seemed like the same person to her; each time he was someone new. The first time they met, he was a hateful aristocrat, then an unwilling combatant at the celebration. In the hall he was a frustrated lord, and then the other day a determined gentleman. Now he was...well, he was acting like an asshole like the first time. Maybe it was the room. Maybe he had bad memories of it. Who knew.

With most everyone here, they were the same most of the time, or at least you could figure out a pattern for their moods. Iza was happiest when no one was controlling her, when she could do any frivolous thing she wanted to do, when no one asked her hard questions. The guards were easiest to deal with when no one did anything out of line, so they wouldn't have to do any more work, or possibly get in trouble for not doing something properly. The Fire Lord and princess seemed to like the same thing: total control over those before them, and watching them squirm. If that was in question, they flew apart into a thousand pieces. She'd never seen Iroh angry before; sad, disappointed, but never mad. The prince was someone who defied patterns, whose mood changed as quickly as time.

Why did he even come here if he just wanted to leave? Iroh, of course. The old man would want him to treat her accordingly. He'd walked her back, now he had to check in on her.

"Um," she bit her lip.

Iroh rolled his eyes. "Pay him no mind. My nephew is just anxious to see his girlfriend."

"Uncle!" The prince's face turned bright red, though he turned away from them. She saw the blush spread down his neck.

He only laughed, clapped him on the back. "Don't worry, I'm sure Lady Kanna has had similar conversations about her boyfriends, am I right?" He looked to her, waiting for an affirmative.

By this point, she'd also learned the art of lying to save face. "Yes, of course. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Your Highness."

"I'd read that in the Water Tribes, there aren't boyfriends or girlfriends, that there is minimal courting. They go directly from tribesmen to husband and wife."

She stared at him, caught in the lie. It was a strange feeling, new to her, uncomfortable, like she'd eaten live worms, and they still moved in her stomach. Wasn't he supposed to accept the lie? Isn't that how they preferred things here?

"You still haven't learned how to live in this society."

Her brows pulled together and down. "Then maybe you should teach me." Her hands became clammy, and she strangled the fabric in them. What right did he have? What made his culture so much better and more important than her own? They had a ridged hierarchy and a distrust and hatred for anything different. She remembered her grandmother telling stories her grandmother had told her, about when the Fire Nation soldiers would visit, and they would trade goods, when they sat together around the same fire and ate the same foods, when they exchanged tales and laughed together. Maybe it was because they were lower in rank, because there hadn't been a war. But the Firelords had changed it all.

"Now, now, let's have none of that. This is a friendly visit. Nephew," he said, turning to the prince, "Help Lady Kanna with the tea."

The prince's expression was a cross between frustration and deadpan disbelief.

At that, Iroh gave him a grin and nudged him on.

Kanna walked away and into the kitchen area. She was only going to hear the prince sigh in exasperation and finally give in to his uncle's wishes; there was no need for her to be there. This way she would have to spend less time with the prince. Really, she wondered why Iroh cared about her.

He cared about everyone, it seemed. The rest of the Fire Nation people she'd interacted with were decidedly more selfish than Iroh. His selfishness was tied to selflessness somehow. He wanted people to get along, to be well. It was as if he were the unspoken moral leader of the palace.

She pushed the sheet out of the way and entered the pantry. The selection was scant, and after a second of deliberation, she selected the chamomile blend. She let a breath out and moved to the doorway, where she stumbled into a pair of arms.

"Excuse me, Lady Kanna! Are you alright?"

She righted herself and stood up, straightening her clothes. "Yes, I was just surprised," she said with a nervous laugh. Looking from the tea in her hands to Iroh, she asked, "Is chamomile alright?"

He gave her a kind smile and replied that of course it was alright. "I am sorry about my nephew. He is..." He paused, choosing his words. "Having trouble readjusting to living in the Fire Nation after being away for so long."

Kanna suppressed the urge to tell him not to apologize for his rude, hardhearted, childish nephew. He was older than her, sure he was. He seemed as petty and little-minded as his father. She only nodded in response.

"Another reason I came to visit is I wanted to continue our conversation before Azula came in."

She busied herself with collecting the tea pot and preparing the water. This wasn't something she wanted to talk about, not now, not later. It wasn't important anymore. Who she was, or rather, who she had been was dead and buried. Now she was only a shadow. Her burn had scarred over, her own heart had hardened to the resoluteness of the palace. Nothing was to be done but wait, until what she wasn't sure. Escape, freedom, death, anything that would mean she no longer saw this place.

A hand pulled the pot of water out of her hands and she turned to her right, seeing the prince produce a single blaze of fire from one hand, boiling the water instantly.

The girl strangled a cry in her throat, but pushed aside him nonetheless, spilling some of the water onto herself. "What's wrong with you?" he yelled after her. She ran into the back, hiding in her room, where she pulled her dress off and buried her face in the blankets, whispering to herself, crying.

Most people seemed to think she had no emotions, but the truth was she had felt so much that she was too exhausted to feel anymore. Then events would culminate, and build, and build. And then anything could set her off. Once she had spilled a glass of water, and she ended up on the floor crying for half an hour. Another day she sewed an extra button on a uniform, and Iza said they would have to throw it out. The Fire Nation army expected perfection in their uniforms. Kanna ripped the jacket to shreds, cutting the sleeves haphazardly, and ended up on the floor, hiding beneath it.

Nothing she did was right. Even if she pushed herself it was hard to do anything. Bending took more effort than she had; fifteen minutes left her winded. She slept for hours and hours on her day off, and woke up more tired than before she had gone to sleep.

Her body hurt. It was that dull, all-over pain before a flu, but the flu never came.

There was nothing she wanted more than an end to this suffering, and she was getting desperate. She was too weak to escape, so that really only left her with one choice. It was looked down upon in her culture, but she knew the Fire Nation didn't care. They wouldn't cast her into the sea, as was custom in her home, but bury her in the cold earth. That was what kept her from it. That, and the slightest chance that she might return home one day.

She began to wail, clutching the blankets. She was falling, and they were the only thing keeping her here. Everything hurt, nothing was right. Whenever she heard the echo of a single pair of footsteps, all she could hear was die, die, die, die. She heard them now, but that was the least of her worries. If she died, she wouldn't have to worry about falling. It would all be over.

So she sat up and looked to the door. It wasn't death. And it wasn't Iroh. The scarred prince looked down at her, then at the floor. She continued to look at him, calm now, her face tear-stained, snot on her upper lip. He looked back at her, and she looked at his hands, held back a sob.

"What do you want?" she managed to get out.

He let out a heavy breath through his nose. No steam today. "I-I frightened you. And I yelled at you. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Can I do anything to help?"

She stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused. "Did Iroh tell you to apologize?"

The prince hesitated.

"If he told you to apologize, I don't want to hear it. You shouldn't need someone to tell you how to act. You're an adult, aren't you?"

"Who do you think you are?" He stared at her, angry and confused. They went together well, those feelings.

She looked up to him, stood from the pile of blankets and walked toward him. He looked away and his face turned red. As he continued to not look at her, she poked him in the chest.

"I don't think I am anyone, because I know that here, I am no one. Here, I have nothing but needles and thread. I'm supposed to make something out of them, uniforms and your family's luxurious leisure clothes. But I feel like I'm sewing my own shroud. Everyday I work on it, and even when I'm finished, I still have more to do."

She began crying again, yelling. "I sew clothes for the people that destroyed my home, murdered my family, kidnapped me! You think you're better than me? You have no idea what it's like to lose everything! I have nothing. Every hope I ever had for my life is ruined. I wanted to find a master, I wanted to teach children how to bend, I wanted a family!

"And now I can't have any of it. I'll die here without knowing if my brother and father are alive or not. I can never go home. I can never find a master so I can never teach children. I'll never have a husband or children of my own. Because _your_ people decided our small tribe was worth wiping out. Because they were looking for me, because my mother was burned to death and I can't get the image out of my head, and every time I see fire I hear her screaming and screaming and screaming.

"I can't sleep anymore but I'm so tired. I'm so tired." She hunched over and wailed, holding herself around the middle. "My name isn't even what I said it is. I don't feel like I'm anyone anymore. I'm homeless and alone and I just want to die."

He touched her arm timidly, and it was all she needed. She fell into his arms, sobbing against his chest and shaking uncontrollably, her hands holding tight to his tunic. The prince kept one hand where her wrappings covered the middle of her back, while the other held the back of her head, stroking her hair lightly.

They stayed like that for awhile, even after the tears had stopped, as she began to settle down. Her teeth shook and her eyes ached from crying. She turned away from him and looked out her window. In a low voice, she said, "I'm sorry. You can leave."

"What do I call you now?"

"Kanna, Kala, Girl, it makes no difference. Your sister prefers to call me Water Tribe."

He said nothing. She heard him turn and take a step toward the door, but then he turned back. "When we first met, I got mad at you because I was banished. That's why I was gone. I thought you knew who I was, that you were making fun of me, of my honor, my scar."

"It was your father, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

She was silent. It was what she'd expected, and sadly, it didn't shock her. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

She turned to face him.

The prince's expression changed. "The water. Didn't it burn you?"

The girl looked at her arm, saw it was pink, and felt the pain flare up. It was only a first degree burn. She sighed. "Well, at least I don't have to worry about a suitor rejecting me for burns and scars."

"They do that?"

"We haven't strayed much from our sister tribe. Women are supposed to do work, but burns and scars that aren't on our hands are frowned upon. It shows that we've worked hard, that the men in our families couldn't provide for us. I guess it doesn't matter much anyway. The men are either ten years younger or twenty years older. I probably wouldn't have married even if this all hadn't happened."

He looked down at that, then back to her. "Can I help treat it?"

She looked at him, perplexed. "Sure."

They went into the sewing room, where she pulled out some spare cloth and a pair of scissors. The prince brought in a bowl of water for her and set it on the table. She bent some of it around her hand and focused on her shoulder, closing her eyes and trying not to flinch.

"There's an ointment we use for burns. I'll go get it."

"Mm," she grunted in agreement.

She heard him go.

The next thing she remembered was the prince standing over her, shaking her lightly and calling a name that was not hers. She tried to sit up, but he pushed her back down. "You fainted. Stay still. Uncle is getting a doctor."

"Was he here when you left? I don't remember." Her words were garbled and came out awkwardly.

"Yeah, I ran into him outside. Just stay still," he repeated.

They were silent for a moment, looked away from each other.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for helping me."

"Yeah."


	5. Chapter 6

**AN: Firstly, thank you again for even caring about this story to come back to it after such a long time of no updates. I hope that everything is understandable, and if not, please let me know. As I really like writing the main arcs, I tend to forget about the characters and how they're feeling, so I'm slowing this chapter down, which should help with the pacing. Thanks to everyone that brought that point up. As always, let me know what you think, positive or negative.**

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She sat at the low table, blowing weakly on her tea, her hands clutching the cup. A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, the bandage on her arm itching. She snuggled closer into the blanket and shook her hair out to cover her ears. The small beads hit her cheeks lightly as they settled into place along with the rest of her hair. Breathing deeply, she set the cup on the table and closed her eyes briefly, opened them slowly, and turned her head to look out the window.

Clouds clung to the low mountains, grey and heavy. Raindrops drizzled from them slowly, deliberately. The ground seemed to take it in instantly, cold and thirsty, nourishing the dormant fruit trees. They would begin to grow again in a few weeks, Iroh said. The climate wasn't cold enough to keep the flowers from coming and the sun from returning.

He sat adjacent from her at the table, sipping his tea. Often, he would close his eyes and breathe deeply, steam rolling from his nostrils. Each time, she thought about the ancient dragons, wondered if they had really existed. Maybe he was a dragon in disguise as a human. But then she wasn't sure if that agreed with Fire Nation folklore. She hadn't learned much about it, as she stayed away from anyone that wasn't Iza or Iroh. The prince was probably only there because his uncle wanted him to be, to see, to remember what it was like to have nothing and no one but those that had pity on you.

Prince Zuko was sitting hunched over at a desk, writing. _Maybe to his father,_ she thought with distaste. His time with his uncle seemed to soften him. The princess' time with her father seemed to harden her. Still, she understood what it meant to have family, to have someone to look up to had hope to please. But pleasing the Fire Lord wasn't something she thought she could ever do, unless she died.

The cup in her hands again, she drank it all in one go, slowly enough to taste it, though she didn't want to. It was supposed to help her cycle return, which had disappeared for the last few months. The doctor that had seen to her was worried over this, and supplied her with a large package of tea leaves to promote its return. She breathed deeply again as she set the cup back on the table. Eyes closed, she felt the warmth spread through her insides. She felt sleepy, drowsy, ready to take a nap, although they been up for a few hours now. Disregarding decorum, she put her arms on the table and laid her head down on them, sighing quietly. She turned her head to look out the window again, the view slightly enough like home that she felt at ease. Her heart grew warm and heavy in her chest, and her eyelids closed.

When she awoke, the rain was coming down harder, a few thunderclaps sounding in the distance, the lightning too far away to see. Iroh was sitting where he had been, his own eyes closed, not in sleep, but thought or meditation. His breath was light and measured. She watched him for a moment, the wrinkles on his face soft, the line of his mouth somewhat downturned. His hands rested in his lap. He seemed to have no tension in his body; he was a rag doll with a strong spine. She marveled at his control of emotion, movement.

Looking back to the window, she saw the prince standing, peering out at the rain. He stood with his weight on his left leg, his head square, arms crossed against his chest. Except for the leaning, he looked like a soldier, a contemplative one. He uncrossed his arms and stretched them out wide at his sides, shoulder level, fists clenched tight. No noise escaped him. Then he cracked his neck side to side, saw that she was looking at him, and turned around to face her.

"Did you sleep well, Lady Kanna?"

She looked to the man. "Yes, thank you. I didn't mean to fall asleep again."

He shook his head. "It's good that you did. You need all the rest you can get," he said with a smile. It seemed he smiled whenever he spoke to her. He was probably trying to be encouraging and gentle.

The girl stood up and stretched high, letting out a small sound, then folded over to touch her toes. She rubbed her face with both hands and looked back to him.

Iroh let out a laugh.

"What?"

"I was just thinking, have you ever played Pai Sho?"

She said "Hmmm?" the same time the prince groaned quietly.

They played for hours, and although he was kind in playing, he was ruthless and never once let her win. Her brow furrowed and she clenched her jaw as she played, sitting forward on her knees, thinking hard before every move. Every move was a poor one, and at the end of all her moves, she was defeated. She did not quit, and played until Iroh became bored-though he never said so, of course. Finally he had the prince sit down with her.

He sat cross legged, his back as straight as Iroh's had been. His turns took a bit less time than hers, but not by much. They were not much better either. She figured if she kept practicing, she could beat him in a few weeks. To beat Iroh would take decades.

After three games, the prince didn't want to play anymore. He hadn't wanted to play in the first place, and sat down with a sigh, his eyes bored, face resting on a fist. Halfway through the first game, he'd become more serious, and looked up at her when she was thinking about where to place her next tile.

They had taken her to the royal side of the palace a week earlier, right after she had fainted. Iza was concerned, but Iroh told her that she would be well taken care of. When anyone asked about Kanna, Iza was to tell them that she was ill, and recovering under the care of Former General Iroh.

She'd spent her time sleeping and drinking medicinal tea, walking in the royal garden with the two men, and having meals with more vegetables than she was used to. Iroh would give her half of the meat on his plate, saying she needed it more than he did, at which he would point to his large belly.

The rain the past two days didn't allow them to go outside. The two men could have gone, but they stayed with her, out of courtesy. They were afraid her health would weaken more if she was in the winter rains. Iroh spent more time with her than the prince, who often went to see Lady Mai. After spending some hours with her, he would come back more thoughtful than before, and say even less. He sat on his own most of the time, and the girl thought of him like the Fire Nation's tamed cats, who they kept as pets, but were aloof and showed affection only to those they had known for a long time. Maybe he was trying to let her forget that she'd cried in his arms.

Every time she remembered that, she became angry with herself and blushed furiously, and in order to hide the blush, she tried to look as angry as possible. This became a problem early on, and she had to think up reasons for why she was angry. None of them were false, but none of them were the real reason.

She looked up at him now, as he was putting the tiles away, and felt the anger rise up. He was just turning to look back at her when she suddenly stood up and turned away, staring out the window, her arms crossed tightly. She uncrossed her arms almost instantly, holding her arms out at her sides and freezing the rain in place. Her arms shook with concentration, her breath caught in her lungs. With a heavy sigh, she swung her arms down and let the rain fall fast. Her fingernails dug into the skin of her palms.

The room was silent.

"The doctor said you are supposed to be avoiding stress, not creating it, Lady Kanna."

She didn't speak.

"With all your health concerns, I thought it would be best if you were surrounded by confidantes in a quiet setting, so you could heal."

The girl noticed the word he chose carefully. Not friends, because they weren't, but confidantes. Her anger held level. She'd confided in enemies, as the Fire Nation assumed she would. Better to have enemies close by and eating from their hands than biting at them in cages. They allowed her humanity at a price she didn't want to pay, but her desolation had forced her hand, and now she was caught.

Iroh didn't seem to be a bad sort, but she couldn't be sure. The rest of the family was either bad at acting or had no desire to pretend. Following that logic, he should be what he seemed. From his words and actions, it appeared he cared for her, wanted her to feel safe and comfortable. She'd been here for months and still couldn't determine his character. Everything he'd done leading up to now left her feeling safe and comfortable, but she couldn't shake her disdain and fear of anyone Fire Nation.

She didn't even bother to think about the prince. He was an enigma if she'd ever seen one.

"When I was about Prince Zuko's age, I visited the Southern Water Tribe."

Her posture straightened and her ears perked up. She turned to face him; she was a sucker for anything related to home. She didn't care. Instead of asking if he'd seen her grandparents as she had been about to do, she asked, "What did you think of it?"

The old man shook his head slowly. "It was the most forsaken, desolate place I'd ever seen."

She felt her heart fall a bit, but still held his gaze.

"Then, I met the people. I still think that they were the warmest, most inviting and friendly people I've ever met. We shared stories and food, but mostly drinks. One man, I forget his name, drank more Fire Nation wine in one sitting than any town drunk, but he never seemed to be affected by it."

He scratched his chin, thinking, held up a finger. "Actually, I happen to have a bottle from those years ago, a gift from the tribe. Would you like to have some?"

She didn't, but she did. Her desire to taste home was stronger than her anger. The girl nodded, "Yes, please."

Iroh stood and headed to the door, muttering to himself that he would regret drinking the next day. "But if I only have a little I should be okay..."

She looked to the prince, still at the Pai Sho table. He stood up fully now, looking at her as well. They said nothing for a few moments, and he began to pack up the tiles.

"Have you ever been to the Southern Water Tribe?"

"A few times," he said. The tiles clinked as they touched each other in the purse, a dull, wood sound.

He elaborated no more, and didn't ask her any questions. Attempts at conversation with him appeared fruitless every time.

She walked slowly around the room, touching her fingertips lightly on the furniture as she went. A shudder ran down her body, and she pulled the blanket closer around her body. It was probably the slight chill, but she was too proud to admit it to herself. She'd been through much colder, but even a draft could cause illness, and she knew it.

The sound of the bag of tiles being rested on the table alerted her to the prince again. When she turned, she saw him looking out the window, his eyes glazed over, as if not really seeing what was on the other side of it.

"How did you meet Lady Mai?"

He broke from his stupor and moved to the couch. "She's been friends with my sister since we were children." Still, he looked out the window, watching the slow rain.

She sat at the table again. "Why do you like her?"

The prince started and looked down at her. His one eyebrow was raised, and even his damaged eye was opened decently wide.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"That's personal," he said.

The girl shrugged. "That's why I'm asking. What about your sister then, is that too personal?" She might not like him, but he was company, and she should at least know something about him other than his scar, his honor, and his bending.

He turned to look at the door. "We're not close."

"Iroh, then?" She was baiting him with the only subject she knew he would talk about with her. The only other person they'd spent time around was Iza, and the both of them were willing to forget the entire occurrence.

The prince seemed to resigned to it. "He looked after me during my banishment, took care of me like I was his own child. I guess he still does."

She nodded, encouraged that he'd said more than one phrase.

But he said no more.

Tilting her head to the side, she asked, "Are you generally quiet, or do you dislike me?"

He looked confused. "I don't dislike you, I just don't know you. Your customs and mannerisms, I don't understand them."

She nodded solemnly, her eyes downcast, then she looked directly at him. "You know, you need to talk to someone to know them."

He leaned back, looking at her with more focus.

"I've always thought my nephew was too quiet, especially with such pretty ladies as yourself." Iroh came into the room with a bottle in his hand. It looked new, no dust or scratches on it.

The prince rolled his eyes and fell back against the couch.

"His Highness has Lady Mai."

The face of the man in question was red and looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Moving his hand in a way as if to sweep aside the comment, he said, "That doesn't mean he can't appreciate your beauty, or that of other women."

"I'm the crown prince of the Fire Nation, and you two are talking about me as though I'm not here, and-and about subjects I don't want to- agh, I'm leaving." The prince was up and gone in seconds.

Iroh laughed quietly and whispered, "He's very sensitive, you know. He acts like his father sometimes, but he has a heart softer than a turtleduckling's feathers."

She grinned at him and looked to the door. The prince was gone.

He poured the drink into two cups. The liquid was clear, and bubbled as it swirled to settle in the glass. She took one from him, and they raised them in a small sort of celebration. _"Dakalu sukna,"_ he said with a wide smile. The old language.

The girl's grin grew larger. _"Tuli dakalu sukna."_

They drank together and told stories. It felt the way her grandmother had explained it: peoples from different places, sharing what they had willingly and happily. Her insides felt warm again, but she wasn't sure if it was from the overall experience or just the alcohol. Iroh tried to recite an old legend of her tribe, stumbling over the middle half, saying that the warrior had been impaled by an icicle, when the warrior had impaled a turtleseal with an icicle. She laughed and got it straight for him, and when he asked her to tell it in the old language, she did.

Her words came slower, as she carefully chose the most precise words. The fire crackled, the blanket was around her shoulders. This felt like the right time and way to tell the story, or any story of her people. She bent small icicles to help tell it, and sent one into the pillow beside her, the turtleseal.

When she had finished, she watched him, to see how he would react to it. He didn't speak at first, so she removed the water and ice from the pillow, then looked to him expectantly.

He looked down at the floor. "That was...the most beautiful storytelling I've ever heard."

The girl beamed at him.

"However...I sadly don't know the language fluently, so your embellishments and intricacies were lost on me."

She looked at him in confusion. "I thought you knew it, and that's why you asked."

Iroh shook his head. "Stories, whether they are real or made up, help us remember, discover who we are. Our language, our tales, they make up a part of us that can never be erased. It's your duty to remember your language and heritage, to pass it on to your future children. That is how those we've lost live on."

The rest of the afternoon, when Iroh had gone, she told the stories to herself in the old language under her breath. Use and purpose were important to her. They would save her, and remembering these stories, if only for herself, might help her grieve, accept.

No tears came that day, but she spoke until nightfall, then laid down to sleep, and prayed. She hadn't done so since halfway through the voyage. Tui and La, she hoped, would listen to her. At first she only prayed the standard prayers, but then spoke freely. She spoke of her guilt and pain that she hadn't been able to save her mother, her fears for her grandmother, father, and brother. Her grandmother might have been killed along with the others during the massacre, or she might be cold and starving. Brother and father, there was no knowing. They could be together and still fighting, separate and lost, enslaved, dead. She prayed for them the most, not that she meant to. But they were the ones with the least certainty, and she needed to do it for herself, so that tonight, she might sleep and not see her mother on fire.

She laid on her mattress and stared at the ceiling in the darkness, silent. A while later, she was still unable to sleep. With a small chuckle, she rolled over and began to quietly sing a lullaby.

Kinshei hua,

Banyukana danapei,

Dunkar pili udah hanaei.

It was what her mother sang to her brother and herself when they were young and frightened of the darkness, of the colorful lights, of the howling, and the reflection of the snow. However scared they said the felt, was how many times she repeated the verse.

The girl sang it until she fell asleep, not keeping track.


	6. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks to "Created to Write" for writing all those reviews, everyone for favoriting and following, and again being patient. I swear I wrote about seven different story lines for this chapter and was unhappy with all of them, and this finally came about from a little side note in an earlier draft. Hope you all like it!**

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She woke up early that morning, before the sun. It was unnatural to her, but she felt completely awake, had no desire to lay back down, though she still felt tired.

Groaning, she got up and walked to the small vanity. She brushed her hair for long minutes, bored and unsure of what to do with her extra time this morning. After fingering the little bottles and jars on the vanity, and with nothing else to entertain herself, she put on a clean, blue and white dress, fixed up her hair loopies, and left the rest in a braid.

The girl peaked out the door, found only guards patrolling and a scarce number of others tending to errands. She crept out of the room and walked aimlessly, wondering what to do until breakfast. It was at least two hours until then, and Iroh forbidden her from going outside without himself or the prince to make sure she was well.

Some instinct pushed her deeper into the area where the royal family's rooms were, so she followed were few doors on each side, and the tile floor felt warmer underfoot. No one bothered her much about going barefoot; they just stared and rolled their eyes for the most part. A servant walked past her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, harrumphing as he went.

As she went on, guards filled the halls thickly. They looked at her, watching her walk, but didn't move to stop her or attack. She couldn't see their faces, but she could feel their suspicion and misgivings. Apprehension rose in her. Maybe she should just turn around and pretend she got lost. But that might have a worse outcome.

She continued, when a guard suddenly moved in front of her and blocked her from passing.

"This area is off limits. Turn back."

"Okay," she said quietly, and turned.

Two figures were walking towards her now, and she could make them out. She hesitated, unsure of what to do but with no other option, she walked towards them as well. It felt horribly wrong to be there now, like she was invading, nosing her way into a place she didn't belong. Breathing felt difficult, so she just held it in, but then they were upon her.

"Good morning, Your Highness, Jee Sang." She bowed and felt lightheaded, her vision attacked by thousands of white dots.

"Kanna, how are you liking working with the seamstress?"

"Very much," she lied. "Though the doctor has placed me on sick leave for the time being."

He looked confused. "Why are you walking around the royal rooms then? And so early. With no shoes."

"Oh." A blush crawled up her face, and she scratched her head. "I woke up early, and I didn't know what to do so I started walking around. I forgot my shoes on the way out." She assumed he hadn't seen her about lately.

"Well, go on back," he said, waving her off. "This is a restricted area anyway."

"Yes, Jee Sang. Your Highness," she said, bowing to each of them.

"Did you not sleep well?"

The girl took a step back, looking at the prince with surprise. "I slept well, Your Highness. I suppose the sun just woke me," she lied.

Jee Sang noted, with an ironic smile, "You're becoming like those of the Fire Nation."

Her face became slack. "I suppose so."

"It's good to know you're learning to adjust. Go back and put some shoes on, and don't go wandering around the palace for no reason; you'll get in the way." He turned and walked past the guard that had blocked her.

The prince stayed where he was. "Why _are_ you walking around here?"

She shrugged. "I just felt like walking. Your Highness."

"Prince Zuko," Jee Sang called.

He looked over the girl's shoulder at him. Nodding to her, he walked past and fell into step with Jee Sang. She watched them go, Jee Sang waving his arms while the prince looked slightly down. His back looked tense, his shoulders a bit hunched. But the same guard stood in front of her and blocked the view. Annoyed, she stared into his helmet.

"You working on a hit list, foreigner?"

She shrugged lightly, an innocent look on her face. "Maybe I just admire your prince and - whatever Jee Sang's title is."

He didn't speak again, just waved her off.

With a roll of her eyes, she left, and went out into the garden.

It was cold. As the sun rose, the cold leftover from night pushed down upon her. She embraced it, eyes closed, heart something close to bliss. The sun broke and shined, orange and golden, on her face. That was one aspect she liked about this place: the sun came and went everyday more equally than back home. The sun was up the majority of day and night in summer, and barely seen in winter. Here, it was more in balance, and she could enjoy it every day.

She went to the usual pond and sat beside it. Looking at the walls around the palace, she lazily bent the water, sloshing it back and forth to create miniature waves. Her breath came slow and steady. The isolation and lack of freedom were there, but she was making an effort to push them aside, to think of more useful and healthy memories and ideas. Killing herself wouldn't solve anything, truthfully, and she knew it. To escape, to return return home and find what was left of her family, that was the ultimate goal. She would have to start small. And she realized she already had: wearing her colors, remembering her heritage and traditions, speaking the old language, they were all forms of rebellion, no matter how small. The problem would be increasing that rebellion without being caught, pursuing it in such a way that no one cared, that no one would expect her to escape.

It would be a longshot. All the guards and staff, along with the royal family, they would likely always suspect her, but there had to be a way around it all. She breathed, slow and steady, knowing that her progression would have to be the same to escape.

A breeze came whooshing down and caressed her face. She closed her eyes to it, smiling a bit, pretending it was the lost Air Nomads accepting her thoughts and spurring her on. Had they all died, even the Avatar? Was there a new one in the Water Tribes?

The Fire Nation had destroyed so much, including the sense of safety and stability. Without the Air Nomads, with no Avatar to keep the spiritual and material worlds in balance, it seemed nothing would return to safety, stability, and balance. Everything had changed, none for the better. If anything could stop the Fire Nation, the worldwide terror, the poverty and desolation, it would be the Avatar.

 _They must be in hiding,_ she thought. To try and take on this powerhouse without aid would be a poor decision. Allies, supplies, plans were staples they would need to knock the mongrels down. Secrecy would be the most important ingredient; the element of surprise the best possible advantage against the Fire Nation. But if the Avatar were still an Air Nomad, they would be decrepit and likely unable to fight. If from a Water Tribe, possibly too young and inexperienced. Either way, it seemed improbable that they could do anything about this enemy at the present moment.

She laid back in the grass and looked up at the cloudy sky. Maybe at some point in her lifetime, peace would be restored, and she could return home without having to escape. She could visit the ocean side where the dead were cast into the sea, and speak with her mother. The tribe might rebuild, even if it were small, and life could resume in some sense. Breathing deeply, she imagined herself on a ship, headed home, landing, meeting those that survived, living with them, rebuilding, marrying, having children, telling them stories of her time in the enemies' home, of her journey home. A warm feeling spread throughout her chest, tugging a smile from her solemn face. Rage, dismay, and a sense of uselessness still resided in her, but this story she told herself enlivened her. It became her dream.

The thought of having a son in particular made her think of someone it hurt too much to think about. Her heart ached, imagining her brother beside her, pointing out strange shaped clouds, complaining of the heat, then getting up and throwing his boomerang at anything he might be able to hit. She didn't want to think about him. Every time she did she ended up in tears, but this time she allowed herself.

She recalled a time when they were little, in the snowy hills, and Sokka was waving at her from the top. He looked so small up there, wearing tiny gloves and tiny boots. They must have been around eight and six. "Come on, Katara," he called. "Dad said he wants to show us something." Sokka disappeared over the other side of the hill.

For a moment, she had stood there, staring at where he had been, then chased after him. She fell over the side and went sliding down it, stopping when a pair of hands grabbed her around the waist. Her father put her up on his shoulders, and he took Sokka's hand, heading toward the beach.

The sun was rising slowly, a deep orange. Its reflection on the snow burned her eyes, and she covered them with her arm. "Dad, where are we going?" she whined.

He pulled her arm away and pointed at the sun. "You see that?"

Sokka said, "I thought Mom said we weren't supposed to look at the sun."

Laughing, he told them, "You have to look into the heart of things. That's where its secrets are."

Her brother was overrun with the prospects of secrets, and began pestering their dad about what secrets the sun could have. He continued prattling all the way to the beach, asking if dragons still existed, maybe there were eggs in the Fire Nation that they were keeping in case of an emergency.

"What kind of emergency would you need dragons for?" their father asked.

"Well," he said uncertainly, thinking up an answer. "Well what if the ocean around the ports froze? You'd need them to melt all the ice so you could go sailing."

She never found out what it was their father had in mind. All they did was sit there and watch the sun turn about in the sky. He didn't tell them any secret about the it either. Maybe he just wanted to spend time with them before the battle.

When it was about time for breakfast, Iroh found her in the garden and invited her to eat with him. They sat outside of Iroh's rooms, which were closest to the garden. During the meal, they spoke of light, pleasant topics she didn't care about, but the normalcy was something she appreciated. She was drinking her usual-the medicinal tea to promote her reproductive health while the old man had a blend of ginger and green tea. Each bitter and pungent sip made her grimace, and sweeteners were not allowed with this concoction. Downing it was not an option either, as the doctor had noted; it had to be sipped throughout the day to enter the bloodstream at a steady rate. She wasn't sure it worked that way, but she followed orders to be safe. It might have been handed down from the Fire Lord to increase her own bitter and pungent emotions.

"What do you see?" asked Iroh.

Looking out over the green, sunlit landscape, she sighed, wondered what home was like. White and grey and dark, how it always looked in winter. The thought warmed her, remembering the fires, the smell of fish and seaweed, images of her grandmother, mother, and herself weaving baskets and fishing nets.

"Green," she said. "Grass, trees..."

"Not much color, is there?"

She looked to him. "I thought you said it was normal for the flowers to go away in winter."

He nodded. "But only for a few weeks. Our winter is long this year." After a pause, he chuckled. "We're at the equator, you know, or close enough, so no flowers and more rain is really all the change we get."

Flowers returning were not a big concern of hers, but she didn't want to give him the chance to turn the conversation back to his worry about her giving up on hope. He'd already encouraged her to use the old language, remember the stories. Trusting him came easily, but their family was taking a keen interest in her, and she knew nothing good would come of it.

"What do you think is causing it?" she asked.

Iroh took a big inhale, let it out slowly, then looked to her. "What do you think it is?"

Her father had done this, all the older men had. Ask a question, and they'll ask what you think the answer is. There was a reason the question was asked, instead of trying to figure it out herself: they were more knowledgeable about what she was asking. _It must be universal,_ she thought. But she decided to play along. He seemed to like spending time with the foreigner, the prisoner, the sickly, the outcast.

She shrugged. "Too many fire benders?"

He laughed a bit.

"No, I don't know. Could it be something to do with the spirit world?"

"Like what?"

"Like maybe...maybe we're neglecting the spiritual, and focusing more on the material, and it's manifesting here in ours. We aren't supporting it, so it isn't supporting us."

He nodded sagely. "That very well could be. Are _you_ focusing on the spiritual?"

The girl hesitated. "Well, I've been thinking about what you said, about remembering the stories, the old language..."

"It's always important to remember your heritage, and your family."

She looked at him, and saw him watching her. His face was serious, the lines in his face set hard, lips unsmiling. They stared at each other for a moment, tense, until he spoke again.

"What do you think about your family?"

"I don't want to talk about them," she said bluntly, sipping the tea.

Iroh took a big inhale through his nose, let out a small sigh. "Kanna, I know it's hard, but-"

"No, you don't. You've never lost anyone, anything in your life. You can get anything you want to replace whatever you've lost, so don't tell me you understand." She sat back with a huff and looked away, and the old man sat silently.

The greenery calmed her eyes and mind. Staring at it all, she felt unable to remain quite so angry. He might not understand, but he was trying to comfort her. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, or if it would make her sympathize with her captors.

He didn't know her, and she shouldn't pretend she knew him. There were things she had never told a soul, and she was certain it was the same with him. One could never know how much they truly knew another.

Frustrated, she sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

He looked back to her with a small, sad smile. "You're in pain. People don't do what they should when they're in pain. Grief, anger, fear, they don't discriminate, Water Tribes, Fire Nation, rich, poor, ugly, pretty. They touch us all, leave us with something missing.

"Have you ever meditated?"

She looked at him hesitantly. "When I was younger, before the war started getting so close and my dad had to go fight in the battles more often."

"Was he the one who taught you?"

She nodded.

"I think it would help you. Sitting silently, mindfully, it helps you learn and remember who you are, the truths and nature of this world, this life."

"So you'll teach me?"

"Well," he said, in such a way that indicated he had other plans in mind, "I've got some upcoming music nights, and there are a lot of sales that I need to go to. You can find the best things at markets, things you never even thought you needed until you see it-" He glanced at her and chuckled. "We can talk about all that later. But I thought Zuko would be a good teacher.

"He's more serious about it than I am-which can sometimes be a bad thing, but he has more time, and if he's going to be Fire Lord, he needs to learn to communicate with others better, so this will be practice for the both of you." Iroh smiled at her, happy with the conclusion.

Any attempt to get away from that man was a failed attempt. Fate, destiny, and Iroh continued to put them together when she wanted to be anywhere else. Thinking of the prince teaching her to be calm and quiet, to embrace compassion, sounded like a bad idea; he still seemed to have trouble in some of those areas. She wanted to keep her distance, and she couldn't do that if he was going to teach her.

"Are you nervous about it? You look worried."

She wrung her hands in her lap. "Well, I guess so. He doesn't seem to want me around, and his girlfriend might get jealous. I just don't want to cause any problems."

"He spends time with the both of us, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, but that's because he was just doing what you told him to."

He arched an eyebrow. "Since you fell ill, he's come all on his own."

The girl sat back suddenly, looked away from him.

He poured himself another cup of tea. And from what I've seen, he and Lady Mai are not getting along well lately."

"Oh." She took a gulp of tea, and tears came to her eyes. "She'd be more upset that he'd spend time with me, then."

He set his cup down. "Why are you avoiding him?"

"I'm not," she said, too quickly. "I just..." She sighed, decided to tell the truth. "I want to go home. I don't want to pretend that I'll ever belong here; no one else bothers with it. The more time I spend around people here, the more tired and broken I feel. Having tea, playing games with you and him, it's all a lie."

"But the less time you spend with people, the more isolated you'll feel. I don't want you to think you have no one. It might not be under the best circumstances, but you have me, if not Zuko, here for you, Kanna."

She was silent for a moment. "You like taking care of the unwanted, don't you?"

"I like taking care of those that need and will accept being taken care of," he corrected her. "If you don't want Zuko to teach you, I can find someone else. I just thought you'd be more comfortable with him than a stranger."

It was strange to realize he wasn't a stranger. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay. If he'll do it."

"There's no 'if' about it," he laughed. "That boy needs to learn to talk."

The rest of the day she spent planning. Time might not be on her side, so she was going to work it. She scribbled down the moon phases for the next two months, began collecting dry goods for the far off journey, and asked Iroh about the classes they gave to the younger girls. In a land with complex social structures and rules, the children were taught by tutors or their family member, and as she didn't have any family members, she asked Iroh for a recommendation. _Assimilate,_ she thought.

Rather than give her a reputable source, he told her to talk to Ty Lee, Mai and Azula's friend. "She may be eccentric and she doesn't usually follow the rules, but she knows them, and won't charge you. If anything, she'll just want you to spend time with her in return."

With a sigh, she thought of the saying, "Keep your friends close and your enemy closer."

She must not let her heart waver. Yes, she wanted to be a good person, and yes, she still cared about other people, but she needed to care for her people, she needed to get away. Iroh might be hurt in the process, but no one else. And if she didn't get away, she was almost certain she would be executed. Again, only Iroh would mourn for her.

In preparation, she laid on the floor and closed her eyes, pretended she was dead. She had been a part of this ritual with others in the tribe. When the warriors went off to battle, when the elderly were getting sick, their family would sit around them and look at their bodies, knowing the would stop working one day, disintegrate and become one with the earth again. The warriors and elderly would feel the life slip from their bodies and remain there for some hours. But the girl did this alone, for only an hour. She would do it the next day, and the next, until her planned date of escape, and if she made it past that, until her dying breath. Death had been prevalent in her childhood, something she understood though wished didn't happen.

She was afraid. Not existing wasn't a conceivable reality to her; all she had ever been and known existed. She clutched at her chest to make sure her heart was still breathing, felt her chest rise and fall. Thinking of Iroh, she wondered if he would consider this some type of meditation. When she died, she would return to the spirit force, be reborn to a new body. She reminded herself this. Death wasn't forever, only for a time. Maybe she would find her mother again. Her mind might question it, but in her heart she was sure she would know that whoever this person was, they felt safe, like home, like the ocean embracing you.

Images flashed in her head. Shensha cooking fish over the fire, rolling her and Sokka up in blankets, bickering with Gran-Gran, kissing Hakoda on the cheek, out in the snow and realizing her daughter was a water bender for the first time, her eyes bright and shiny with tears. Teaching her to make needles out of bone, sitting down and painting designs on the few scrolls they had, tasting the lychee nuts Sokka had finished soon after, the sunlight gleaming on her hair, celebrating sunreturn with the other tribesmen, paddling in the canoe, with the sun in her face, and the sun and the sun and the sun.

Her chest felt heavy again, tight, and her eyes burned. Tears leaked from her closed eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. "I miss you, and I need your help," she whispered, her voice cracking. Her mother was off elsewhere, in a child's body. She tried to picture the child, but the image kept shifting. Shensha could be anyone now, a boy or girl, from any of the nations. _She could be Fire Nation._

The girl opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Could she really be kind and gentle when she was trying to escape? She would hesitate, and her life would be over. _Sokka, what do I do?_ She felt a warmth settle around her shoulders, calm and gentle, and fell asleep, a thin smile on her face.


	7. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks for waiting. Hope y'all like it**

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Someone knocked on her door. She was in the middle of getting dressed and called out, "Coming," as she threw her dress on. A servant stood opposite her, crisp in his uniform and empty handed. Confused, she asked, "Did I sleep through breakfast?"

He shook his head. "I saw the prince come in here in the evening. Is everything all right?" The way he asked it, she was certain it would be gossip. Oh, the scandal. The prince went into that dark, foreign girl's room, did you hear?

But that dark, foreign girl was again puzzled. With a sigh, she thought, _The blanket._ She noticed it when she woke up, but thought it must have been a servant, or that she woke up in the middle of the night and covered herself with it. This servant could be lying, but if this is what his story was, she would go along with it. "He probably heard me upset in here. I fell asleep, but someone had put a blanket on me. It must have been him."

The servant nodded. "Okay, just wanted to make sure."

She hesitated. "Why? Do you think, is he dangerous?"

Now he hesitated. "I wouldn't say 'dangerous.' He's just got a lot of stress, and you never know how someone will take it out, you know? What with him being away for a long time, the battles and war and all."

Her eyes widened as she took a step back. She stuttered until her words came clearly, "Doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

"I really shouldn't say this," he started, rubbing the back of his neck.

 _Oh, out with it. You all love rumors._

"But they're not doing so well. Even before he went away, they fought a lot. It seems like they're okay together for a short time, but after a while, they grate on each other and just fight. Anyway, just wanted to make sure you're okay." He turned to leave.

"What's your name?"

He turned back. "Sanzo. Nice to meet you, Kanna."

"How do you know that's my name?"

"Oh, uh, I think most people know," he said with a laugh. "You stand out."

Of course she did. "Oh. Nice to meet you, too. Thanks for looking after me."

He smiled at her. "Of course."

The girl closed the door and leaned against it, processing. The prince is having problems with his girlfriend, and he came in here last night. He was angry and bitter, but she didn't think he would be the type to attack a woman.

But if he was the type, wouldn't he go after someone who couldn't get pregnant? There would be no proof. She felt around her legs and abdomen, looked for bruises or cuts, and found nothing. After being taken in by Iza, she forgot she was lucky, not having been attacked or violated. She had been in a dungeon and dehydrated and cold, but with food, and safe.

The Fire Nation soldiers were the ones she feared the most, the low ranking ones. On the ship, they would hit people for the fun of it, but only the men. The prisoners' faces became bloody and swollen, and would sometimes cough up a tooth or two. The higher ranking soldiers, officers, they ignored it; even when they saw a beating, they just turned around and walked in the other direction like nothing was wrong.

There must have been some rules about prisoners then. They could beat them up if they were men, but otherwise there was nothing else they could do. She had cowered with other women, from the Earth Kingdom, in a small corner of the small cell they shared. War changed people, she knew. She had become a puddle of angry tears, soldiers had become violent bullies. Maybe the prince had become someone different.

She took it out of her mind. Sanzo had put ideas in her head, but she knew the prince wasn't that kind of person. The more she thought about him, the more she was convinced he'd only given her the blanket, and she had a sort of revelation. He blushed and got embarrassed over innocent conversations, left whenever he felt uncomfortable with a situation, and was always looking up to his uncle, though he wouldn't admit it. Even after they'd fought during their first meeting, he went easy on her when they had the quasi-Agni Kai. He put up a front, but his actions couldn't hide the gentleness of his soul. She recalled Iroh's words. "He's very sensitive, you know. He acts like his father sometimes, but he has a heart softer than a turtleduckling's feathers."

At that moment, she decided to go talk with him. Neglecting her shoes, she headed out. Everyone was scurrying about, arms loaded with towels and trays and scrolls. She avoided them by ducking under their arms and hurrying off to the sides where she was less likely to be hit. As she went along, she saw Sanzo and gave him a small wave, and, no longer empty handed, he could only nod and smile a little.

She saw the guards before they saw her. Suppressing a sigh, she stood in front of them, solid. "What do you want?" one asked.

"I want to speak with the prince."

The other laughed. "He's not gonna talk with you, _krika_. You're wasting your time. Go sew me a new uniform."

The first joined in laughing. "She is a _krika_ , isn't she?"

Her mother had told her about foreigners that would visit, calling them names and making fun of their skin, their clothes. One tried to look at her mother too much, and her father fought him off. That was when their parents arranged the marriage. They had Sokka a few years later, then her. She wracked her brain for the word her father had called the foreigner.

 _"Pligonaka._ "

"The hell did you just say?" The first guard grabbed for her shoulder, but she stepped back and he toppled over.

The second guard went after her, hands outstretched. His fingertips were a breath away from her neck. On the floor, the other gripped her ankle.

"What's going on?"

They all turned and saw the prince, a mound of scrolls threatening to fall from his arms.

The guard standing dropped his arm, then pointed at her. "This _krika_ called me a _pligonaka_."

He looked to the guard on the floor, who shouted "Yeah, yeah," in agreement.

 _"_ Maybe you shouldn't be calling her a _krika_ then. Go somewhere else. I don't need guards right now."

The one on the floor stood and brushed himself off. She could feel them glaring at her before they walked away. Her body was so tense she was afraid if she fell she would shatter like glass.

"What did you want?"

She looked back to him, bowed. "I wanted to talk to you, if you aren't busy, Your Highness. But it seems you are," she said looking to the scrolls.

"No, it's fine. Come on." He struggled to open the door without losing the scrolls, so she grabbed the handles and held it open for him. Walking in, he thanked her.

She came in after, closing the doors behind her, enveloped in darkness. It was silent for a moment, and she didn't know what to do.

"I'm going to set these scrolls down and light a candle, okay?"

The girl nodded, remembered he couldn't see either. "Okay." She heard a rustle of parchment, prepared herself for the fire. The palm of his hand came into view, just the barest silhouette, then his fingers, his arm. She saw the outline of his face in the dark, the unscarred side, noting how his jaw was clenched. He moved towards the corners of the rooms and put the flame close to the wicks, which ignited as slowly as the flame had emerged. Strangely, vaguely, she felt calm. Exhaling, she settled into her feet, put an arm around herself.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Why aren't there windows in here, Your Highness?"

As he lit more, he explained. "It's an anteroom. They're for important members of the palace. You don't want people to be able to see into your living space. They could spy on you."

"Iroh's room has windows," she pointed out.

She couldn't see his expression when he sighed, extinguishing the flame hovering above his palm. "He's important, but he doesn't have much bearing on the nation. There wouldn't be any point in someone kidnapping or killing him. There's nothing he could give them if they did." He turned and sat at a low table, motioned for her to join him.

"So people would be more likely to kill or kidnap you than him?" She sat down, running her hands over the smooth, cold table.

The prince nodded and leaned back. "Yeah."

"Does it scare you? Your Highness."

"I guess so. You were scared when the soldiers took you, weren't you?"

She shuddered. "Yeah," she croaked.

"Oh, sorry. I guess I shouldn't have brought that up." He looked down at the table.

"It's okay. I started it." The girl patted his hand unthinkingly, then pulled it away. "Forgive me, Your Highness."

"You've done worse."

"Hmm?" She glanced up at him.

He shook his head. "The Agni Kai? You caught my ankle pretty good. I've never fought a water bender before, so it took me off guard."

"Oh." She nodded quietly.

The prince sat forward. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

The girl looked up, felt nervous. "Um, last night, I fell asleep on the floor, and when I woke up I had a blanket on me. A servant told me that you came in my room, so I thought it was you. Was it?" She simultaneous hoped it was and was not him. If it was, then she was more indebted to him. If it wasn't, she had more cause for concern. Who else could it have been?

He sighed and scratched his arm. "I didn't mean to do anything, but I heard you crying, and when I knocked, you didn't seem to notice. As soon as I put the blanket on you, you were out. I was afraid if I moved you to the bed, you'd wake up, so I put a pillow under your head."

She laughed. "Thank you. You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"No, why?"

"That servant is probably going to tell everyone anyway."

The prince nodded silently. "Okay. If anyone says anything, we'll just tell them the truth."

Hesitating for a second, she asked, "Is this going to cause trouble with your girlfriend?"

He shrugged nonchalantly with a tilt of his head. "We aren't together anymore, but there'll probably still be trouble."

"I'm sorry. It must be difficult." She thought about the letter he had been writing, the silence that followed his visits to Mai.

"How do you mean?"

"Hmm," she started, thinking of how to phrase it. "From the little I know of you, your life hasn't been easy. Having her must have made you feel better about everything, having someone you could talk to about your feelings with."

"No," he said bluntly. "I couldn't talk about my feelings. We connected, but we missed each other somehow, like we were going the same place, but we took different routes. We got there, but not together. It was pretty lonely."

Unsure of how to respond, she sat silently. During their spar, he and Mai seemed so close, but it must have been the newness of seeing each other again after all that time. That was the only time she remembered seeing them together. She nodded slowly, trying to think of something she could do or say. "If you want to talk about it, well, I don't have any experience, but I feel better when I have someone I can talk to about problems or feelings. You listened to my problems back then, so I'll listen to yours, Your Highness."

His eyes brightened a bit, but his lips remained horizontal. "Thanks, maybe another time. It's breakfast now; let's go get Iroh."

They left the room and went to Iroh's. The prince knocked on the door. There was only silence on the other side of the door. He called out, "Uncle? Are you there?" There was no reply; frowning slightly, he opened the door and peeked inside, then walked into the room. The girl stood behind, hesitant, then followed him inside. "Iroh?" she said hollowly, fear rising in her.

What if someone had spied on Iroh, kidnapped him? She shot a glance at the prince, but he wasn't looking at her. Iroh was important, she thought, and he deserved an anteroom. Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought of him gone. Who would she confide in? He was the only person there that she trusted with her thoughts and feelings. Iroh was nothing like the Fire Lord, and she desperately hoped he was there. She began praying to the spirits somewhere above a whisper. The prince looked at her inquisitively now, brow furrowed, his weight on his back leg as if to examine her more completely. She would have snapped at him, but she was busy.

"Are you speaking the old language again, Kanna?"

The two jumped at the voice, sighed as Iroh walked in carrying some bulky packages.

"I didn't notice I was."

"It sounded like something memorized, like a prayer," he noted.

The prince snatched the items from his uncle's arms. "You were out shopping this early? We were worr-" He broke off and turned away, his good ear red. After setting the packages on the ground, he crossed his arms, his back to the both of them.

"Worried? Why be worried?" The old man laughed. "I was only getting some much needed equipment for a hobby."

"Oh no." The prince tore the wrapping off and sighed deeply, leaning heavily on the table. She noticed how his shoulder blades protruded under his tunic, his muscles tight. He turned to them, saying, "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not playing the tsugi horn. You can have music nights without me, okay?"

Iroh frowned. "But it's no fun without you! Besides, this will be Kanna's first music night with us, and if you aren't there, she'll be the only person her age. Forgive me," he said, speaking to the girl now. "I haven't asked you. Would you like to come with us for music night? It's a group of amateurs, but we love the music. We could learn some of your tribe's songs as well."

She was quiet, thinking. "That could be fun."

He smiled and turned to the young man. "Now will you come with us?"

"Take Azula, she's her age," he recommended, not kindly, but not unkindly.

"No," the girl said.

The prince looked to her. "What?"

"Azula," she said slowly, gathering her words. "I've only been around her a few times, but I don't want to spend more time with her than I have to. She's...cold."

His brow raised for an instant, receded. He exhaled through his nose. "What about Ty Lee? You don't like her?"

She shrugged. "I don't know her."

He laughed loudly, his head thrown back.

"What?" she asked indignantly.

"Didn't you say something about having to talk to people to know them?"

The girl opened her mouth to speak, but upon nothing coming out, she snapped it shut, her arms crossed against her chest. "I don't know about her...well, at least I know I can trust _you_ ," she blurted. She froze at her own words, eyes wide, avoiding the prince's. What was she doing, saying she trusted him, being interested in a social event, when she needed to distance herself from the both of them.

It was silent for a short span of time, but it felt like a century. Her heart hammered again, and she was afraid to look at either of them.

She heard Iroh clap the prince on the back. "Sounds like it's settled to me. We'll meet tomorrow after dinner for music night," he said, leading them out for breakfast. "By the way, when are you going to start teaching her to meditate?"

"Wait what?"

* * *

Breakfast was soon over, but she was still with the prince and Iroh. They sat together with their backs straight and eyes closed. The mens' breathing was even and level as though they were asleep. She had trouble clearing her mind, spending most of the time thinking about Ty Lee and how she was going to get on with her in those faux classes. Unfourtunately, she would have to pretend to be more upbeat and excited about the lessons and actually practice whatever she was told to do.

She shifted, uncomfortable.

"Kanna."

She wished she could learn whatever the Fire Nationers knew about water bending and the tribes. That would be something she actually cared about, something she could show interest in.

"Kanna."

She jumped and looked at Iroh. "What?"

He turned to her. "You've watched the sea come up the beach and drift back out. Let your thoughts be like that: let them come, let them go. That's the whole point, remember?"

With a frown, she nodded and closed her eyes. Let them come, let them go.

But the thoughts kept coming, and she finally stood up.

They looked at her with blank expressions.

"In the beginning, it's hard. You'll feel restless and that's okay. But you must keep trying."

"How is sitting doing nothing going to help me become a better person?"

"You're not doing nothing. You're learning to exist just as you are, with no distractions. Accepting yourself isn't easy, and you have to keep reminding yourself about it, but it's worthwhile." The prince cracked his neck.

"Sometimes it helps to count your breaths. You have something to focus on, but it isn't a big concern," suggested Iroh.

Sighing, she asked, "Can we do this tomorrow?"

"Of course. I think I'll meditate on my own, though, so it'll just be you two. Your anteroom should work."

They both looked uncertain about the arrangement, but said nothing in case he decided to continue the conversation.

He stood up with a groan. "Well, I'm off to practice some for music night."

They watched him go, then stayed where they were, not looking at the other.

 _Harden your heart,_ she reminded herself. She looked down at him, arms crossed over her chest, but could think of nothing to say.

"Yeah?" he asked.

She stammered. "I-just, y-you-"

"Oh wow, you've already found a rebound, big brother?"

She saw Azula strolling in with that smile that failed to reach her eyes.

"You could've at least gone for someone _close_ to your rank, like a farmer's daughter," she said with a shrug.

The girl scoffed. "You don't even-"

"Shut up," he said calmly, then spoke to Azula. "Uncle wants me to teach her to meditate."

"So she can realize the poverty of her pitiful upbringing? How is that working out, Water Tribe?"

Frustrated and enraged with both siblings, she lunged at the princess, prepared to fight. But the princess lazily threw a burst of fire at her. The girl ducked and managed to douse it with the remaining tea in Iroh's pot, and looking up, she saw the princess examining her nails.

"What kind of monster are you?" she gasped.

The light in her eyes and the smirk on her face vanished for a split second, and her face became stone. "The kind that gets what she wants. Where is Uncle?"

"He went to practice for music night," said the prince.

"Gonna be playing the tsugi horn for us?" she asked mockingly as she left the room.

Only when the sound of her footsteps died did they speak, and at the same time.

"Don't tell me to shut up-"

The prince jumped to his feet. "She will use everything you give her against you-"

"-and you all care so much about status, but you let her treat you like an inferior-"

"-just better to stay out of her way for your sake-"

"-oh, my sake? Now you're acting like you care about me even-"

"Would you just stop talking for _five_ seconds?"

She stood stony and stoic.

He sighed. "I'm sorry I told you to shut up. You were right saying she's cold, but she's also calculating. She will use anything she has to get her way. Do you understand that?"

Silent, her eyes moving away from him, she nodded.

"So the less you tell her, the easier your life will be. Avoid her, say the bare minimum, and don't be caught alone with her."

She stepped back. "I know she's violent, but she wouldn't kill me, would she?"

He gave her a dark look. "If it gets her what she wants."

The girl shuddered and grasped her arms, smoothing out the goose bumps. "Okay," she said quietly, to herself. "But-" She cut off, embarrassed.

"But what?"

She hesitated. "Everyone here looks down on me, and they think my eyes are creepy. You, Iroh, and Iza are the only ones who really talk to me." She stared at her hands, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes.

"Have your-woman times started again?"

Blushing furiously, she shook her head.

He sighed. "I was gonna say you should go back to working with Iza, but the doctor won't let you until then." He paced the floor. "Okay, start your lessons with Ty Lee tonight before dinner."

"How will that help?"

"I-just do it, okay?"

She raised her hands in a sign of submission. "Alright, you're the boss."

The prince shook his head. "That's Iroh."

"So you're just taking care of me because Iroh says so?"

He took a step back quickly, flustered. "I am not-you're making this very uncomfortable, you know."

The girl grinned at him. "I have to cheer myself up somehow."


	8. Chapter 9

AN: This one is short because it's taken me so long to update! I was originally planning on this story being completely in Katara's POV, but I think the writing gets pretty stiff and boring, and I've come to the conclusion that I don't think it works for ATLA. So here's some Zuko POV! And things get kinda intense! Hope you enjoy it. :)

* * *

Zuko actually wasn't sure what the plan was, if there even was one, if there was anything he could really do. Basically, he was stalling. Having the girl learn about Fire Nation society from Ty Lee was just a way to get her away so he could think, maybe talk to his Uncle.

He had no idea how he could protect this seemingly fragile, but unbreakable girl from his ruthless sister. He didn't know why he was trying to protect her, and what was the point in protecting her anyway? Because his uncle had taken pity on her, had taken her in? And now he'd been sucked into it. He cared about her, and it was difficult to explain why. But they both had lost their homes, and, not that she knew, their mothers. Unsettling similarities existed between them, but he was willing to let it all stay in the background until there was a real reason to bring it up.

It felt like she was another lost child he was trying to save, but the difference was that this time, they had no blood connection, no connection at all. That was one fault he saw in the old man: forever trying to save the hopeless. When Zuko had been banished on that fateful day, Iroh sat by his bedside for hours, saying nothing, because he knew the tumult of emotions that were drowning the boy. As the weeks went by, and Zuko was preparing for his banishment, the old man coaxed him into letting him join the few soldiers that would attend him. It didn't take much though, with his father disowning him, Azula alarmed but smirking, and his mother...

He needed someone to guide him, and Iroh was the only man in his life who cared for him. His grandfather scorned him for his poor bending abilities, and his father, anxious for the throne himself, parroted the same words to his son in private. Lu Ten had been a brotherly sort of figure, but his life had been snuffed out when Zuko was young himself. The rest were nobles that tolerated him, and servants who did as they were bid. Iroh was the only person in his life who believed in him, thought he could be more than the scarred, banished prince.

Mai had never said good bye. To be fair, she hadn't heard about his Agni Kai until weeks later from her father, by which point Zuko was already searching in the Earth Kingdom. She told him upon his arrival that she'd written him letters throughout the years; hadn't he gotten any of them? He had, but they weren't comforting. At first, they were about Azula and Ty Lee, their training, how she missed him. Then they became dry, cardboard, as if they were strangers. She had a brother now. Her training with throwing knives was improving. The weather was hot and dry. The letters stopped in his last two years.

What made him go back to her? It was ultimately comfort. They knew each other, there had been a childish connection between them, an inkling of affection. That and it improved his image that he had someone so soon after returning, that it was even his childhood sweetheart. But she'd become colder, and he'd become...something; he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of much since he'd gotten back.

So the girl was another person for his uncle to mold, to comfort, to teach. He wondered if it would take another six years, as it had with him. But there was no task for her. There was no honor to restore, no search to be had. Her family was most likely dead, her homeland in ruins. The only thing Iroh could teach her was to accept what had happened and move on. That's probably what the meditation was for, to keep her from despairing.

She'd told him during her breakdown that she lied about her name. When he asked what he was supposed to call her, she said it made no difference. His understanding of her name had gone from "girl" to "Kala" to "Kanna," and now it was back to the beginning. He wanted to know what it was though, but he knew it was pointless to ask, so he called her nothing now, and in his mind, it was just "she."

The girl in front of him shrugged with an expectant look. "Where am I supposed to find her? Your Highness?"

He noticed how she would do that. If they argued or she teased him, she dropped the titles, but after a while she seemed to remember herself, and began to add it back. "She spends time in the garden after lunch. Usually doing cartwheels and back flips, so she's easy to spot."

She nodded, her face blank.

"I don't think she'll say anything about your eyes being creepy."

She turned those eyes on him, glaring, her lips pursed. "That's not what I was thinking about."

"Oh, sorry, Kanna." Maybe he could trick her into saying her real name.

But she said nothing, only stared at him. Her eyes weren't so much creepy as penetrating, like she knew he was hiding something. He thought that if she kept that stare up for long enough, he might spill every one of his secrets to her.

"You said," he started, unsure of where he was going, "That the soldiers were looking for you."

Her face turned to stone and she stared at nothing. Maybe this wasn't the best time.

"You don't have to talk about it," he said with a shrug. "I just-"

"Why do you act like you care about me now? You threatened me when we first met, fought some Agini Kay with me the next, then avoided me for weeks, and as soon as I spill my guts to you, you start caring?"

"Agni Kai," he corrected her.

Her face was red, and he could see her hands shaking. With fear or rage he couldn't tell. "What?"

"It's an Agni Kai."

Closing her eyes for a moment, she put her fingertips to her temple. "That isn't the _point_. The point _is_ , you never act the same way towards me, and I can't understand why you care. Iroh said that after I fainted, you started spending time with us without him asking you to. Why?"

Zuko hadn't expected her to be so upfront, which was pretty dumb, considering she'd been confrontational since day one. He hadn't expected to have to explain his interpersonal skills with her either.

"Is it because I cried to you and you feel sorry for me? Because I don't need you to feel sorry for me." She crossed her arms over her chest. The deep shade of her skin made him think that she would be warm if he touched her. "Are you listening to me?"

His attention snapped to her face. "Yeah, I'm listening." He took a deep breath, but before he could speak, she was on him again.

"So what's your answer?" she asked harshly.

"Would you give me a second?" he huffed.

Her lips tightened in a straight line and she stared at him, waiting.

He turned away from her. With a sigh, he began. "I'm not really good with people. Talking is difficult, and I have all these ways I'm supposed to act around people. I have to be the perfect gentleman with Uncle, firm around the guards, ignore the servants, charming with nobles-"

She snorted.

He whirled around and glowered at her. "I said I have to be, not that I am."

"So you don't know how you're supposed to act around me? I'm a servant, so you should ignore me, but Iroh expects you to treat me like a lady?" That harsh tone of hers was unrelenting.

He looked away from her, out on the garden. "Something like that."

"Well you'd better figure out which one you're going to follow, because trying to figure out how to act around _you_ is getting tiring."

Zuko looked back at her, but she was glaring at the floor to her left. "You're not all that stable in how you treat me either."

"Then we should just decide now: Are we going to interact the way your father would have us, or the way your uncle would?" Her voice was determined, and the look in her eyes matched. She didn't move, her arms still glued to her chest. There was a fierceness about her he found intriguing. Even when she _seemed_ to have fallen apart, she hadn't. She had strong resilience.

"What would you prefer?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

She rolled her eyes. "I'd prefer to be home, but that's not an option. So am I calling you 'Your Highness' or-"

"Zuko."

The girl stared at him blankly. She didn't understand that he'd answered.

"You can call me Zuko."

She blinked, looking uncertain. "Zuko."

"What do I call you?" It really didn't matter. It didn't change who she was. A Southern bender that lost her family. But he still wanted to know.

Inhaling, she looked at one of the walls. Her arms uncrossed and hung them at her sides. She closed her eyes tightly and brought her arm up, sneezing into it a few times. Her hands on her hips, she stared directly at him. "I confessed all my homesick, suicidal emotions to you. If you want to know, you're going to have to tell me something big."

* * *

She could tell he was ticked off, but it didn't bother her. If she told him her name, he would have something to potentially hold over her. She needed something in return. It was survival for the sake of having a friendship.

"Like what?"

The girl shrugged. "What do you think is a big enough secret?"

He eyed her wearily. "Why does it have to be a big secret?"

"Leverage. You tell on me, I tell on you."

Zuko looked unconvinced, biting his lower lip. His teeth were, surprisingly, a bit crooked.

"Very well, Your Highness," she said with a bow, before turning to leave.

"Wait!"

She stilled a grin, turned back to him.

Looking around the doorways, still biting his lip, he walked to her, whispered in her ear, "I think my mother was murdered."

She stared at him in awe, her mouth slightly agape. "That's...a bigger secret than I would have expected you to share."

There was no Fire Lady in the picture, she had understood that since the first fittings. Maybe divorced, maybe dead, but murdered had not been in her thoughts. Though with the Fire Lord's temperament, it was more than plausible. No one spoke of her, no one mentioned the phrase "Fire Lady," except for the instance Iza told her the title, how she had gotten her job as the royal seamstress.

"Not here." He motioned for her to follow him.

They left Iroh's rooms, and headed into Zuko's anteroom. It was lit this time, and she was grateful she didn't need to see him bend.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"One night, years ago, before I was banished, my mother came into my room. She woke me up and told me everything she had done was to protect me." He paused, his eyes focused on his hands on the table. "The next morning, she was gone.

"I asked where she was, but my father told me to shut up about it. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. Azula laughed at me, said it was my fault she wasn't there anymore, that I'd need to find someone else-" He broke off, and she could sense it would be better not to force him to finish the sentence.

"My grandfather was dead that same morning, and my father took the throne as Fire Lord." Zuko turned his eyes on her, and his voice trembled as he spoke. "I think he killed them both."

She stared at him, unable to think how it was possible. "They-they didn't find her body?"

He shook his head. "No blood, nothing of hers was missing. She was just gone." Tears were forming in his eyes.

After a moments' hesitation, she went to him, kneeled, wrapped her arms around him. He was still for a moment, then returned the hug woodenly, but rested his forehead on her shoulder. The warmth from his body spread through her, and she felt a sort of comfort settle over them. Remembering how he had treated her when she cried, she put a hand at the crown of his head and stroked his hair. He relaxed into the hug.

Her voice was a croak as the word came out, afraid. "Katara."

"Katara," he mumbled. "Thank you."

Katara stared at the wall, still stroking his hair. She'd made an unexpected friend. She'd shared her name. And she learned about a possible double homicide on nobles in the Fire Nation.


	9. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, so I'm reuploading these chapters because trying to write an AtLA story from one POV is pretty awkward and it can get dull and stilted. Zuko will now have sections of his own, and I may also throw in other characters. Also, thanks to everyone who has favorited and subscribed even though I haven't put up a new chapter in months. I probably would have completely abandoned this otherwise. Hope you like it better this way!**

* * *

She sat in the dungeon with her back against the wall, the darkness filling her eyes, the silence stopping up her ears, the dust catching in her throat. A dank musty smell filled her nostrils. Barefoot, dressed in the red rags of a war prisoner, she sat shaking lightly. Somehow in this country of sun and warmth, their dungeon was cold. It made little sense to her. Some of the guards were firebenders. Wouldn't they want it to be warm? How long she had been here, she couldn't say. She felt she was becoming a part of the place; the longer she was there, the less life she felt inside her.

A man started to sing, his voice reverberating throughout every cell of the dungeon. "She called me a liar, called me a fool. She-"

"Shut up!" another yelled.

More voices joined in, calling him and the woman he sang of harsh names.

He cleared his throat and fell back into silence.

She looked at the empty bowl, then at the door, which was made mostly of nothing, the rest vertical lines of metal. They brought her food regularly, three times a day, more than she was used to in her normal life. The meals were the same with little variety: rice gruel with portions of fruit or vegetable, a mandarin orange, a clove of garlic, something strange which a guard had told her was a "leak." Her body was unused to this amount of carbohydrates and no meat. In the tundra, her vegetable selection was limited to a handful of roots and seaweed, while the majority of her diet was flesh: fish, bear, and seal. Her stomach contorted in pain with this food, so she spent much of her time huddled against the cold wall, clutching her gut and hoping for the pain to pass. Most of the time she slept to bare it, though she knew she should be focusing on escaping.

Then there was the fruit, which she had barely ever tried before being captured. Her first try was a dried lychee nut when she was still very young, and the taste was something she couldn't remember. Her brother had eaten most of it himself, hiding it from the rest of the family and earning more than a scolding from their father. Here, hungry and homesick, the fruit met her with sweet delight, but ended in torment. The texture of her first mango was soft like butter, but her stomach couldn't handle it. So when the pain hit her, she rushed to the pot they provided her with, hoping it would all end soon.

The water was a bigger problem though. The guards would bring some in a small skin, uncorking it when they were right beside her, allowing only small sips, then they would disappear until the next meal. Which definitely did not help since she had diarrhea. After a few meals with fruit, she decided to give up on it entirely. There was no reason to doubly harm herself.

She thought of food from home, her stomach upset and her heart heavy at the thought. Sea prunes and jerky, a big bowl of seaweed noodles, the green noodles and the bone broth soothing her every sorrow.

A set of steady clicking echoed from outside, faint and far away.

Footsteps. A pair of them. She sat up, the chains around her wrists jingling. Did she really hear that? Was she just imagining it? It was hard to tell in this darkness. Without a window, with only a view of the underground dungeon, there wasn't much to go on. It could've been the middle of winter or the beginning of summer; there was no light, and there was always the same, cold chill in the air. It clung to her feet, stuck in her ears and crawled down her jaw. She was given the pot, her prisoner garb, and a blanket, so she would huddle up in a ball against the corner closest to the center of the dungeon, and sleep without comfort, drifting in and out of scanty drowsing.

It wasn't a meal time. Morning couldn't have come yet. Each day she would hear the door unlock, the guards come in laughing and joking to each other before they took their stations. They rotated every six hours, and although she had been in this cell for two weeks, she'd never met with the same face twice.

Now she scooted herself as far away from the door as possible, willing herself to shrink infinitesimally. The footsteps were coming closer, and a flicker of light played across the walls. Could these people even be guards? What purpose could two guards have for entering the dungeon? They could take one of the prisoners out. Oh, someone was going to be executed. She willed herself smaller and smaller, hoping it wasn't her. Then she remembered what her grandmother had said happened to women in prisons. Alone without rights, looked upon as less than human, surrounded by angry, frustrated men. Her heart beat faster and the air died in her lungs.

A few voices called out as the steps grew closer.

"'S time for breakfast?"

"Kantu smells like shit."

"I'm two cells over!"

Whoever they were, they ignored the comments and continued to walk with the same even, unhurried pace. Click click click click.

Gritting her teeth, she stood slowly, never taking her eyes off the light moving closer. Her breath caught in her throat as the steps grew louder, paused, turned right, and she saw a man before her, just one. Where was the other? Hovering above his hand was a small flame, swaying gently He looked like every other man from the Fire Nation: dressed in black and red, hair like fresh coal and eyes of burning honey. And most likely a murderer.

"What?" she spat.

He blinked in boredom, raised an eyebrow. "You're to meet with the Fire Lord."

She took a step back, chains barely ringing. Her face grew hard again. "Why?"

"Since you can only ask one word questions, I'll give you a one word answer: because. Now get out," he said, sliding the door open.

Her lip twitched as she made her way out of her cell, defying the urge to knock him to the ground and bust her way out. Not that she could-they'd blindfolded her and snuck her in through the prisoners' tunnel-but she wanted to see how far she could get. Although, since the Fire Lord expected her, this would probably be the worst time to try it.

Another man grabbed her by the chains connected to her wrists. The first guard, Master Grouchy, unlocked her cuffs, then the next brought her arms behind her back, and the first guard restrained her again, tighter than before. Somehow she had the ability to roll her eyes instead of snapping at them.

"Come on," said the first guard. He lead the two through the dungeon, the tall guard holding her chains behind her.

Some of the prisoners hooted.

"Fire Lord looking for something more exotic?"

"She's too skinny to entice anyone."

"He's gonna kill her, you morons."

She met eyes with a man. Northerner, she thought instantly, her heart soaring while sinking. He wasn't someone she knew, but he was her people. Wrinkles etched into his forehead and his lips turned down, then he opened his mouth, and out came the mourning song of their tribe. "The moon smiled down upon my lands, the ocean washed my weary hands. I know they won't send me adrift, Tui and La give me my last gift..." A few others joined in, quietly, but loud enough to echo through the hall and make her wish she could abandon her body.

Her eyelids scrunched shut, hoping to block everything out. Death was coming. She'd barely lived her life, but then there were babies that died in the womb. At least they were with their mother, at home, she thought.

They made their way up the stairs, the cold biting the soles of her feet, but emptying her limbs with every step she took. Warmth wasn't something she'd felt since they tossed her on the ship, surrounded by too many bodies, none of them from her home. When they'd reached the Fire Nation, bags were placed over their heads, their hands cuffed behind their backs, and they were led up a gangplank, into a cold tunnel underground. The cold became worse when they entered the dungeon, the bricks like ice. Her animal skins were gone, no fires burned but from the palms of benders to light their way.

The first guard opened the rightmost door and vanished through it as she followed quickly behind. This tunnel was more of a hallway, with doors on either side. At the very end on the right, the guard unlocked the door, led them in, then unlocked two more doors.

She blinked hard at the light in her eyes. After a few moments, a man behind a desk came into view. He was sitting down, leaning over a paper while he scribbled. She and her guards stayed silent, and when she looked between the two, impatiently, the one holding her chains pulled them hard. A scowl plastered across her face, she stood fuming.

Finally the man set his pen down and looked up, clearing his throat. "Southern Water Tribe?"

"Yes, sir," answered the shorter guard.

"Captured during the raid six months ago?"

"Yes, sir."

The raid was six months ago. The voyage wasn't that long. She should have marked the time on the walls with something. Disdain filled her as she remembered-she wasn't allowed any utensils, not even wooden chopsticks.

"Water bender?"

"Yes, sir."

He leaned back in his seat. "Well, then. What is your name?"

She stared at him defiantly, her lips unmoving.

An eyebrow raised. "This will be better for the both of us if you cooperate. Less punishment from the Fire Lord, you know."

Where was the Fire Lord? Did they know who she was? She didn't want to hear them butcher her name as well as her family. "Kanna," she said at length. They wouldn't notice that it was a Northern name. As long as there was a "k" they would believe her.

"Good," he said, scribbling again. "Age?"

"Seventeen."

"Family?"

"Gee, I don't anymore considering-ugh!"

The tall guard pulled her chains again. "Answer the question, prisoner."

"A brother and a father, maybe a grandmother."

"What kind of work can you do?"

Spirits, what was the point of this? "Catch, gut, and cook fish, sew, clean, row a boat for an hour, sing children to sleep, ride penguins, dehydrate sea prunes-"

"We don't have quite the same, uh, provisions, but we'll see how well you sew and clean." He wrote on the paper again.

"Will I be working for the Fire Lord?" she asked, caught between being done with this entire situation and terrified enough to break through the window behind the man at the table.

He closed his eyes, then opened them, as if he couldn't believe what she'd just said. She stifled the urge to roll her eyes. It seemed blinking was a way to demean intelligence in the Fire Nation. "No, Kanna. We'll see which you decide better and then decide where to put you. Either in the kitchen or with the seamstress."

"Why not just kill me?" she asked, reckless, not thinking about the possibility that he might listen to her. Maybe hearing the Northerner sing her to the other side had some strange effect on her. "I'm a bender, I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

He scratched something out on the paper. "You'll be working with the seamstress."

"You really need more slaves? What's the-guh!"

"The Fire Lord has decided that you will work to earn your keep here. You'd do well to listen to and respect Jee Sang." The tall guard never looked at her.

Jee Sang cleared his throat again. "Yes, thank you, Setun. Now," he said absentmindedly, "Take her to Iza. She'll need to help with all the preparations."

Before she could think about what they could possibly be preparing for that required extra help for the seamstress, Setun and Master Grouchy led her out the series of locked rooms and through another confusing set. Then they marched her up three flights of stairs, into a narrow hallway, and opened a small door. The room was filled with piles and stacks of half sewn clothes and brand-new yards of fabric in different shades of red and black. A large window looked out on some sort of garden, the morning sun rising over the horizon, casting orange light across the expanse of red flowers.

A woman came stumbling into the room, squat and smiling. "Oh, are you helping me? I'm Iza, dear, I really appreciate your help."

Stunned, she stared at the woman. Maybe the women were friendlier than the men; she'd only met with men before: soldiers, guards, diplomats. She coughed, remembering her name. "Yes, of course. I'm Kanna."

Iza bowed to Kanna, startling she and her guards. She returned the bow hastily, unsure of why this woman would bow to a foreign girl in rags and chains. "Well, Kanna," she said, "It's only you and me, so I hope we can get through all this work. The royal family needs new formal clothing for welcoming home the prince." She glared at the guards, asking them to release her so she could get to work.

As they removed her chains and cuffs, they explained to Iza that she was a dangerous captive, the last water bender of the Southern Water Tribe. Iza simply scoffed, telling Kanna that she looked like a strong and sweet young woman. She stood listening to them bicker in the way of the court: no real jabs, just underhanded remarks.

"We will stay here for your protection," Master Grouchy said to Iza.

She replied with, "No need. I'm sure you have more important work to tend to."

Setun began to argue, but closed his mouth. They bowed and left Kanna with the seamstress.

She looked at the older woman. Hair the color of coal, pulled back in a high bun, yellow eyes like a cat, far apart, broken only by a small, upturned nose. Below were thin lips, lines creasing into the skin around them.

Iza sighed. "Now that that's over with, let's get started. All I want you to work on is hemming what's in this pile, alright?"

"Yes, Iza." She moved to the clothing she indicated and sat down, threading her needle and starting in. Iza had already pinned them, so all she had to do was sew a straight line that would hold. She sat there for a time, working her way through tediously. By the time six pieces were done, her stomach let out a loud growl. She blushed as she said, "Excuse me, Iza."

"Have you not eaten?" she asked in a shrill tone.

Kanna shook her head. "They took me before the regular guards came in."

The woman set down a burgundy shirt with a roll of her eyes. "Men forget about feeding others when they've been fed themselves. Come on, I'll get you something." She stood from her stool and disappeared behind a rough sheet in a doorway.

Following cautiously, she found Iza in a small, cramped pantry. There was a store of fruit and vegetables along with some flatbread on the two shelves the room held. Kanna looked down at the floor, but found no strange breaks in it, nor in the ceiling when she looked to the higher shelf. Iza placed a piece of bread and fruit in the girl's hand.

"Thank you, but I-" she faltered. "My body doesn't do well with fruit." Another blush crossed her face.

"Really? You must not have eaten much of it before you came here." She took the fruit and replaced it with a carrot.

She thanked her again and sat at a table void of cloth, next to the window. Her breakfast was quiet, though it was probably more the time when one would have a snack. A slight wind pushed at the flowers, sending them swaying south. Her heart ached at the thought of something as simple as a direction.

If she could make it to the coast, she could bend herself home. Though what would be left of it, she was unsure. Brother and father gone to war, grandmother lost in the raid, and her mother. She bit angrily at the bread, hoping to get rid of the memory. She'd been in the arms of soldiers by then, kicking and bending as best she could-which was pretty bad, considering she'd taught herself everything she knew.

Kanna bit hard into the carrot. She finished her breakfast quickly and got back to work, hemming clothes where they were pinned. The thought that royalty would wear these clothes broke her concentration, not in awe, but anger. Her family was destroyed, her home far away, and now they had her doing menial labor for them.

She wondered if fire benders could burn themselves. She'd heard that the entire royal family could bend. Maybe they would set themselves on fire for this stupid homecoming. Then she could break out and go home. "When is the party?" she asked Iza, not looking up from her work.

"Oh, just a week away. We'll get through everything we can and have the fittings a few days before. The prince really has grown up. He was still a child when he left."

She didn't care how old the prince was when he left. He was probably just as terrible as she imagined he would be. Uptight and angry, always ready to set something on fire. With a high opinion of himself and the perfect appearance of one who had never wanted for anything: food, clothes, his family. Really she wanted to freeze him to the highest ceiling in the palace and watch as he melted himself and fell to the ground.

"He's only a year or so older than you, I'd guess. He's..." She paused, counting. "Nineteen? Yes, because you look about the same age as Princess Azula. You're sixteen, seventeen?"

"Yes," she replied, wishing it were possible to never have anything in common with the royal family. Just existing at the same time was bad enough. Now she was in their home, sewing their clothes as their prisoner, and unfortunately the same age as the princess. And her brother, if he was still alive, would be the same age as the prince. _The spirits must have a dark sense of humor_ , she thought.

* * *

Prince Zuko sat across from his uncle, failing to focus on his tea. He was staring out the window, looking at the sun rising over the horizon. The deep orange glow carried across the rippling sea, glinting in his eyes and leaving marks when he looked away. It was happening. After all these years, the scorn, the humiliation, it was at an end. Here it was: the true dawn of his life, one in which he would be respected by his equals, even her.

In all actuality, he should have received more deference. He was older, the Crown Prince, the future Fire Lord. But his personality, even as a young child, was not what his father expected. Born of fire, he was supposed to burn and engulf, not warm and nuture. As time passed, he learned to hide that side of himself, but on that fateful day, he was unable to hold his tongue.

 _But it's over_ , he reminded himself. The prince picked up the white cup, feeling the warmth spread through his fingers, the palms of his hands.

"Prince Zuko," said the other man.

He turned his face from the sea to his Uncle. "Yes, Uncle?"

The old man cleared his throat, played with his white beard. "It has been some time since we left, and I'm sure a lot has changed, the people especially."

It wasn't something he wanted to think about. He knew people changed, but he doubted she had, doubted his father had. As for Mai, she'd stopped writing letters a long time ago; he wasn't expecting anything. The best he could hope for was that respect. Not admiration, not friendship, not love. Respect and power would be the key.

"I know, Uncle."

He nodded. "You have changed. And I am proud of the man you've become."

Zuko propped his elbow on the table and hid his cheek in his hand. It still made him uncomfortable when his uncle talked like this, praising him on being a somewhat decent human being. Happy, but uncomfortable. "Well, you basically raised me, so good job."

His face softened with a smile. "I just want you to remember all you've learned. Keep a level head in tough situations, don't let your anger get to you."

He took a sip of tea, watching the old man. It was with great restraint that he kept from rolling his eyes. "I will if she doesn't act like a spoiled child."

"That's exactly what she is, and we both know it."

Zuko raised his brows.

"It doesn't matter how she acts. It matters how you _react_. The more you react, the more she wants to...bother you."

"That's putting it lightly, and we both know it."

Sighing, he said, "Yes, I know." He took a sip of tea and looked out at the ocean. "But you will be the Fire Lord one day, and when that day comes, you must be ready. You will be in charge of the lives of all your people, the soldiers, the farmers, the shop workers. The decisions you make will affect them all." He turned back to the prince. "You must be ready to sacrifice for them, even if it means renewed scorn from your sister."

Zuko didn't have to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. _Renewed scorn?_ he thought.

He hadn't heard from her since the last time she had sent a letter, three years ago, bragging that she had surpassed all the other fire benders, that she could produce lightning with ease while the others' faces turned purple with effort. Lightning wasn't something he was fond of, but still something his Uncle Iroh had taught him to redirect as soon as he saw the letter. He still had long, thin scars across his chest and arms where the lightning had become stuck. With a snort, he thought, _I'm mostly scar tissue at this point._

"It's no laughing matter, Prince Zuko," said Iroh sternly.

He blinked and shook his head, looking down in at the tea in his hands. "That wasn't what I was thinking about. I was just…"

Sighing, he sat back and looked out at the sea once more. It was no longer rippled orange. The sun was now yellow in the sky, the water a deep navy.

Zuko turned Iroh, avoiding meeting his eyes. "I don't know how I'm expected to act. What other Crown Prince has been banished, and then allowed to return home?"

"None! You're the first! Isn't that a fortunate end to this chapter of your life?" Iroh smiled widely.

"Uncle, you know there are no chapters in life. Everything bleeds into the next moment."

He sighed. "Yes, but that doesn't mean we can't look back at the past moments and rejoice."

"That they happened?" Zuko asked, incredulous.

Iroh shrugged his shoulders. "Or that they've ended."


End file.
